


Zero Lives Remaining

by oops_its_spooks



Series: Ghostbo | Ghost! Tubbo au [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (end TWs), (in relation to Tommy), Angst with a Happy Ending, But sometime before the events of the second festival, DadSchlatt, Descriptions of explosions violence and threats, Discussions of death, Gen, General TWs for this fic:, Ghost Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbo AU, He/Him and They/Them pronouns for Ranboo, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, I just like those headcanons, I update every week or so :), Im a sucker for a good family dynamic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jschlatt is Tubbo's dad, Major Character Death applies but they're all ghosts now so ya know, Mexican dream is there and he is a ghost bc cannonically? mans is dead, No beta we fall like L'manburg, Obvi this is all based on the dream smp roleplay and not the irl people :), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quackity and Wilbur are duck and piglin hybrids but its not relevant, Ranboo is in several chapters bc I love his character lol, Schlatt’s cabinet are a family and I will die on this hill, Sometimes they/them pronouns are used for the ghosts bc I see ghosts as sort of agender, Takes place after Tommy leaves Logsteadshire to live w/ Techno, They/Them Pronouns for Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Yeah I'm a massive Tubbo apologist lmao, i messed with the timeline a bit lol, not cannon compliant lmao, tubbo has a lot of ptsd man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oops_its_spooks/pseuds/oops_its_spooks
Summary: He couldn’t quite place how it happened -his death. He remembered flashes of faces surrounding him, standing on his presidential podium. His friends and enemies alike were there -hell it felt like nearly everyone on the server was there! Though he was in L’Manburg, he wore nearly-broken armor. He remembered shouting over others, trying to defend himself, struggling not to cry. He was exhausted, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have attempted to run.Here's the beginning of my Ghostbo (Ghost!Tubbo) au ! I've had this idea for awhile now and I'm really hoping to get some of ya'll invested so that I'll be motivated to keep writing it :)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt (Past), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap (background), Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot (implied), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sapnap & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Everyone, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Series: Ghostbo | Ghost! Tubbo au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092737
Comments: 102
Kudos: 484





	1. He Wakes Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ! Welcome to my Ghost!Tubbo / Ghostbo au :) I'm real excited about this so please leave me some comments to keep me motivated,,,?
> 
> Please heed the tags on this work as a whole, I recommend checking TWs for individual chapters as well just in case something unexpected comes up. It's important to be prepared for potentially triggering content and to have the chance to opt out of engaging with it beforehand. 
> 
> TWs:  
> Major warnings for descriptions of a panic attack and ptsd  
> Descriptions of explosions, violence, Tommy's pillar in Logstedshire, general threatening behavior  
> Be kind to yourselves and stay safe <3
> 
> See ya'll in the end notes :)

Tubbo wanted to do nothing more than curl up and nap in the grass. His light brown hair was messy, and tan rams’ horns (one of them broken) protruded from under it along with soft, floppy ears that twitched at every sound. Rosy-pink and sensitive burn scars covered much of his skin. There was a light breeze that gently ruffled his fluffy hair and left him snuggling into his own sweater to avoid the chill. The young boy wore a spring green sweater over a formal button-down shirt, his jeans were torn, and his knees were scuffed. The most recent snowfall had long since melted and left everything looking barren and dead. Tubbo grumbled to himself as he blocked out the sun with his arms and shifted his position. There were holes in his sweater, all ranging in size and representing wounds delivered by arrows, swords, axes, and even a trident -all with an intent to kill. 

He felt cold even though it was oddly sunny for winter. Oak trees and wilting rose bushes lined the edge of the clearing as a makeshift fence. There was an opening to the glade to his left in the form of a wooden gate. An oak bench sat to his right, at the center of the field, with a jukebox to its side. It is here that Tubbo woke up for the first time after losing his third and final life. 

He sat up delicately, but the scene before him made his head spin with confusion. His sneakers were untied and dirty from overuse, but he didn’t mind. Tubbo inspected his hands: half-transparent and scared. He remembered an exploding heat filling that yellow box with smoke and festive colors. He knew that nobody tried to rescue him, but couldn't understand how it all happened. The cool-gray tone of his skin and semi-transparency was familiar. The holes in his clothes were all too similar to the ever-present stab wound on Wilbur’s chest and patch over Schlatt’s heart. 

_Oh… I’m dead…_

The revelation is one of distant acceptance rather than some grand discovery. Growing up surrounded by war, losing his first life as only a child, he had been numbed to it all. Had come to the morbid acceptance that he would die before he reached twenty. He had to accept that he was cannon fodder because denial would do him no-good on the battlefield. 

He couldn’t quite place how it happened -his death. He remembered flashes of faces surrounding him, standing on his presidential podium. His friends and enemies alike were there -hell it felt like nearly everyone on the server was there! Though he was in L’Manburg, he wore nearly-broken armor. He remembered shouting over others, trying to defend himself, struggling not to cry. He was exhausted, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have attempted to run. Swords, bows, axes, tridents, and crossbows were all trained upon him. He could see Ghostbur and Schlatt standing a ways away. The shorter had his hand on Ghostbur’s shoulder as the friendly ghost waved to Tubbo. Techno went on a spiel about anarchy complete with literary references and his usual tact. He couldn’t remember the conclusion of the story, what parallel had been drawn, who his foil was, what moral had been shared. But it was punctuated by a Trident rising to Tubbo’s throat and a question he couldn’t recall, then came his final words and a strangled cry as the crowd took his last life. 

He slowly pushed himself into standing, wobbling a bit at the effort, and soon found himself sitting on the bench. It was sturdy and comfortable and perfect for two people to sit together. It felt right to sit there in the afternoon sunshine. The distant sound of light laughter made his ears twitch, but when he looked, there wasn’t anyone there.

_I helped make this place…_

Again, the information comes to him in a haze, a sort of dull realization of an insignificant fact. Though, it felt like this place was important to him. Like it meant something to be here because of someone else. Tubbo looked around, somewhat frantic in his movements. He could’ve sworn he saw a figure with a white mask in the trees, but when he blinked, it was gone. The imagery filled the young boy with fear.

_Where’s Tommy? -Who’s Tommy?_

A surge of panic bloomed in Tubbo’s chest, and his head was spinning again. He gripped the edge of his seat with ghostly white knuckles. He heard laughter, closer and more threatening than before, but he couldn’t locate the source of it anywhere. Tubbo felt sick. After a moment of panic, he let out a soft laugh.

_Of course, I know who Tommy is! He helped me build this garden!_

A reminiscent smile graced his face, a sigh left his lips as his whole body relaxed at the realization. He examined the jukebox to his left and distantly heard a melody play. His ears perked up again, and his shoulders settled into his seat. 

_He’s my best friend!_

Muffled shouts from the blonde filled his head, but he couldn’t make out a word. Memories flashed through his mind, only they were distorted. The entirety of the scene looked as though he was peering through a fish eye lens and felt like he was outside of his own body -a bystander. He was standing on something tall and narrow. There were other people there, but their features were muddled and unidentifiable. The only face he could recognize was Tommy’s, and he looked absolutely devastated. His breath hitched and the laughter only got louder, it felt as if he was being mocked for his worry. 

_-No… he was my best friend… _

Tubbo’s illusion faltered and the laughing stopped abruptly. He suddenly felt lonely in the field he and Tommy built together. There were supposed to be bees here, he remembered them, but no buzzing could be heard. The deafening silence and feeling of loss ultimately made him want to flee the area. The place reminded him too much of what he had done. He heard distant voices, fighting, explosives.

_Maybe I’m not cut out to be president after all…_

He stood quickly. The speed and overwhelming emotions of it all left him feeling seasick once again. He didn’t speak, but his own voice rang out, 'I’m doing what’s best for the nation.' He looked around, in another attempt to locate the origin of the noise, but the effort was fruitless once more. He started to head for the gate, clutching his green sweater in cold, gray hands. 

_-The president? The president of…?_

His steps faltered, only a few feet away from the gate, he saw a distorted man appear in his path. He was tall, with fluffy hair and wire glasses. The man wore a soldier's uniform and held himself with an air of authority to him. _Wilbur_ , his mind supplied. He shouted at Tubbo, he was reprimanding him. He tried to stammer out a defense but the general spoke over him. Wilbur called him a traitor and said he wasn’t trying hard enough for- Tubbo heard a cacophony of voices. It was loud enough to make him place his hands over already drooping ears and squeeze his eyes shut. ~~'l’manburgnewl’manburgmanburgl’manburgmanburg'~~ He recognized his own voice somewhere in the distorted noise, but he couldn’t make anything out. The sound was over as swiftly as it began, and Tubbo hesitantly removed his hands from his ears and opened his eyes. Wilbur was gone. Tubbo continued onward and through the gate.

_I can’t have been a good leader if I pushed Tommy away…_

Tubbo hugged himself tightly in the bitter chill of the air as he trudged through the woods. ‘It’s just us against the world, Tubbo.’ Tommy had smiled at him after the words. He remembered that moment so vividly. The way the sunset cast a golden hue over everything, they were listening to one of the disks, and Tubbo had just wrapped gauze around Tommy’s bloodied knuckles. It was the night after Tubbo's second death. He had suggested that they run away together once and never turn back. But ultimately, Tommy was in too deep to take the chance, and Tubbo couldn’t bear to go on his own. His heart ached at the thought. Tubbo was utterly lost but quickly found and followed a well-worn path in the underbrush as if he were on autopilot.

_Tommy didn’t want me to be president..._

The same line replays through his head, 'I wanted Wilbur to be president -not you, Tubbo.' The words made his heartache and eyes prick with big, globby tears. He tried not to let it show, but when Tommy said he’d prefer a known terrorist who had gone completely insane be the president in place of him. The sentiment felt like a slap in the face, and the residual sting never really faded. Tubbo noticed that the trees were beginning to thin around him. Looking up, he spotted the hazy familiarity of the Dream SMP just past the tree line and distantly smelled the salt of the ocean to his right.

_Did the people think I was a good President…?_

He continued walking, following the path towards the water. Now he heard Quackity shouting at him, 'you’re acting like Schlatt!' There was a fear in his voice, well masked by his anger, but indisputably there. The boy pressed onward and nearly tripped as he saw flashes of his friends again. They all looked so… Scared? Disappointed? Angry? Disgusted? All because Tubbo wasn't a good enough president. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath before continuing at a faster speed. 

_It was my fault that Tommy had to go away-_

He could see the docs now, and though it remained somewhat dulled, he could smell the salt of the ocean. His own voice rang out in his mind, 'Dream, escort Tommy out of my country.' He swallowed thickly, shakily pushed the tears out of his eyes, and picked up the pace again. 

_my fault that he built that tower-_

He heard Tommy again, ‘you’re being a bad friend!’ The words cut deeper than any knife ever could. Tubbo was running when he reached the hill leading to the main entrance of L’Manburg. He could see his friends’ homes and the podium where he took his last breath. Tubbo saw cobblestone and that yellow concrete box he was trapped in. He could’ve sworn he _smelled_ gunpowder. ‘I’m doing what’s best for the nation,’ hearing his own words again. Tubbo blinked away his tears, and the old cobblestone podium was gone, replaced by spruce planks and rustic-style buildings. 

He was in the lower section of L’Manburg now. Tubbo could see Ranboo, Fundy, and Quackity standing aways away outside the enderman hybrid’s home. The latter two seemed angry at his sudden arrival and took defensive stances. 

Ranboo took slow steps forwards and held his hands up as a sign of safety, he spoke softly, “Hey Tubbo! I-I know you’re probably really- uh -scared… right now but- it- it’s going to be okay!” 

Quackity’s wings were puffed up in annoyance, and the teen looked so unbelievably angry that he seemed to consider reviving Tubbo just to kill him all over again. While Fundy had a nervousness to him made obvious by the way his ears and tail twitched and swished about anxiously. It felt wrong to be on the receiving end of hostile reactions from the two. They were a family once. Tubbo was like a deer in headlights, his breathing heavy and eyes wide with fear and confusion. For a moment, he saw the two young officials in white aprons, their weapons replaced by axes. He heard fireworks much too close to his sensitive ears. Tasted the thick, oddly sweet, fermented flavor of an invisibility potion on his tongue.

_my fault that he-_

Ranboo continued to try and soothe Tubbo. He was closer now but too far to touch. The lean boy crouched slightly to get a better look at Tubbo. He craned his neck with his head sideways and eyes that stole quick glances at the other in fear of making eye contact. Ranboo wrung his gloved hands in anxiety and repeatedly looked over his shoulder at the concerned hybrids behind him. 

“Mr. Pres- Tubbo?" He stumbled over the nickname," What do you- uhm- what do you need from us- from _me_ \- right now?” 

Tubbo saw that dreadful tower in front of him, stretching impossibly high into the clouds and constructed with a hodge-podge of materials. _Toms was always building towers._ Tubbo almost chuckled to himself. _It’s… fitting that a pillar was the last thing he ever made_. Tubbo was unsteady on his feet now, his knees shaking and overall exhaustion catching up with him. 

_I'm so tired, Tommy_

The words in his head were a shout. Tubbo clutched his ears again as the sound echoed outwards and made him feel like his head was going to explode from the volume, ‘The disks don’t matter, Tommy!’ Tubbo choked back a sob, his limbs were shaking, but he fought to keep himself from sinking to the ground. He frantically glanced around himself, noticed that more figures had appeared on the path, and leaning out of their homes. Tubbo felt humiliated and cornered as the images of his final moments played on a loop. He saw people surrounding him up there on the stage with weapons drawn. He remembered apologizing. He told them that he had tried his hardest to do what was right. Tubbo felt like the whole world had its eyes on him all over again. 

_I just wanted everyone to be happy._

"I'm sorry I-" a sob wrenched its way out of his chest, "I tried my best- I've never been a leader I- I'm only sixteen- I didn't mean for any of this to- for Tommy to-" his knees buckled. 

_I didn't mean to kill my best friend._

Tubbo collapsed to the ground in a heap, tears flooding his eyes and wetting his face. "He was my- oh god I- I killed my- I'm so sorry-"

As he babbled, his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to stop the hallucinations plaguing him. Hands still gripping his sensitive ears even though the effort to silence the auditory disturbances did nothing. He could barely hear his surroundings over the noise within his own skull and his own crying. People were talking, but he couldn’t make anything out about the conversation or who had spoken. ‘I asked you to do one thing for me, Tommy!’ He could only hear himself and all of the nasty things he had said, ‘you couldn’t do one thing for me -and it was for your own good!’ The sound within his skull reverberated and distorted as he heard other memories playing on in the background. ‘You’re being selfish!’ Worst of all, he couldn’t get the image of that damned tower stretching up into the clouds out of his head.

_My best never was quite good enough…_

Tubbo felt shaky- like his bones were converging every which way as if some internal earthquake was morphing his body into contorted shapes. He heard explosions and laughter and his own screams for help. His execution scars seemed to radiate a blazing heat. The image of Sapnap taking his first life in the final control room wrenched another sob through his frail body. He was choking on the smell of gunpowder smoke that blocked out the sun and homegrown baked potatoes and sweat. The taste of blood and disgustingly-sweet golden apples filled his mouth in a familiar tandem. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once; He was bleeding out in the bunker. Sparing with Tommy on a sunny day. Giving a speech on the podium. And at the business end of Dream’s ax. -All in a whirlwind of memories that felt far too real. He’d had panic attacks before, but this assault on his mind was somehow infinitely worse. 

_How could I have let this happen?_

There was too much noise inside and outside of his skull. He couldn’t concentrate on one single memory as the worst moments of his life replayed all at once. Distant voices argued above him. He didn’t notice that his surroundings experienced a lull in activity -that the bystanders had been shooed away by a ghostly ram hybrid. 

“Tubbo? It’s just me and Ghostbur alright? You’re safe now, you’re gonna be okay.” The voice sounded distant and muffled due to his covered ears. Tubbo couldn’t recognize the voice exactly, but for whatever reason, the speaker caused him to feel better, “Just breathe, take big, slow breaths for me, okay bud?”

Tubbo nodded and did his best to comply. His crying slowed, and his throat burned from sobbing. Gasping for air, he looked like a fish out of water. Schlatt glanced at Ghostbur as the latter settled down next to Tubbo, blue in hand and a confused, worried expression on his gray face.

“You’re doing great, Tubbo, keep it up, just like that, four beats in and four beats out, nice and slow. That’s it, you’re gonna be just fine. Is it okay if Wilbur and I touch you?” another slow nod, “okay, Tubbs, Wilbur’s gonna put his hand on your back to help ground you and I’m gonna help you move your hands away from your ears okay?” 

Tubbo took a moment to fully comprehend the words over the jumbled mess in his head and nodded. A hesitant hand rested on his upper back Tubbo flinched at the touch but didn't move away. He heard his best friend, ‘you’re a monster’ he had said, the words echoed around his skull. Ghostbur began to rub steady circles into the young boy’s back. Focusing on the sensation of Ghostbur’s gentle movements and slowing his breathing caused the volume in his head to lessen significantly.

_I don't deserve their help._

“Our ears are sensitive, Tubbo,” Schlatt loosely gripped the boy’s wrists and began to slowly bring them away from his ears, ”even though we’re dead we can still get hurt or do damage to our health. It’s not good for your ears to be pressed down on like that” Tubbo’s hands rested in his lap now, “do you think you can open your eyes for me, bud?”

He took in a deep breath and slowly blinked his eyes open in compliance. His lip still quivered, and his tears hadn't stopped completely, but his breathing and hallucinations improved significantly. Tubbo kept his gaze downward in shame and messily rubbed at his eyes with his sweater sleeves. 

“We don’t have to talk about it now, we can explain everything later. Just know that we get it and,” Schlatt rested a hand on Tubbo’s knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, “we’ll be here for you for as long as you need, kiddo. Just concentrate on breathing and let us know when you’re ready to head out of here so we can all go home and rest.”

Sniffling, Tubbo looked up into Schlatt’s milky white eyes and nodded. Tubbo felt a tug on his sleeve from Ghostbur, who had stopped rubbing his back and now held out lapis lazuli as an offering.

“Have some blue, Tubbo! It always helps me feel better when I’m upset!” Ghostbur smiled at the boy as he hesitantly accepted the gift, smudging his gray palm with the color. 

Ghostbur was soft-spoken and gentle in all aspects of his afterlife. He was genuinely kind to everyone and did his best to help others -even if he couldn’t quite grasp why they were hurting. Tubbo didn’t remember much about Wilbur (or “alivebur” as Ghostbur had taken to calling him). He grew up around Wilbur, the man taught him to play piano and raised Fundy alongside him. He fought for L’Manburg’s independence under Wilbur’s leadership and was a cabinet member during his presidency. But then came a large gap in his memory that spanned what felt like months where he couldn’t recall what Wilbur had been like. And then came Ghostbur‘s arrival. He remembered only snippets of the first war; Their tiny victories, and the beginning of it all when they still joked and had a playful rivalry with the Dream Team. But he knew that he was missing vital memories. Eret disappeared at some point in the timeline, and Tubbo has scars he can’t remember getting but _knows_ are from the first war. It hurt his head to think about it, but for the moment, his amnesia was a problem for another day because Tubbo felt safe here with Schlatt and Ghostbur. 

The noise had faded away now, and his mind was finally clear as the three ghosts sat on the path. Ghostbur rested his head on Tubbo’s shoulder and hummed a tune the boy could distantly recall but couldn't quite place. Tubbo placed his free hand over Schlatt’s. The man smiled down at him and maneuvered to hold his son's hand.

His memory followed a similar pattern of a long gap with Schlatt’s death, as it did with Ghostbur. Though, the period of static was much shorter when it came to the ram hybrid. Tubbo remembered initially being scared when Schlatt was elected but, his fear had quickly melted away as the man took on a fatherly role in his life. The whole cabinet had a sort of familial structure. They were a bit of an unorthodox group- Schlatt, Quackity, Fundy, George, and Tubbo- but they were a family. They had spent so much time living and working around one another, it was somewhat inevitable. Although most of their softer moments happened behind closed doors, they remained meaningful. He remembers waking up from nightmares of the war in a terrified frenzy and Schlatt helping him calm down until they both fell asleep. The fractures in his memory of Schlatt begin a few months into the man's presidency and continue until he met Schlatt's ghostly form. Tubbo remembers being happy about his death. He can’t imagine why he would think such nasty things about his own father. In the short time Tubbo had known him, he grew to love his dad and (though he feigned annoyance) appreciated his coddling.

His breathing was even now, and everything had gone quiet in his head. It was as if a blizzard had torn through his consciousness in a whirlwind of emotional chaos, only for everything to become so still and silent. So stagnant now, it was more akin to a photograph than a view from the window. Tubbo felt strangely empty, not lighter per se, but overall he was more tired than anything else. He only ever had a few panic attacks in his short life. This experience was definitely more intense, and the exhaustion he felt throughout his body was both familiar and elevated. 

He looked to Schlatt and gave a small smile, “I-I think I’m alright now,” his throat was scratchy from sobbing. “Thank you both,” Tubbo noticed that his voice sounded airy and far away, a symptom of becoming a ghost, “for sitting with me.”

Schaltt smiled back at him, “It’s no big deal, kiddo.” 

Ghostbur hummed in approval as he picked his head up off of Tubbo’s shoulder and replaced it with his hand. 

“It’s not easy being a ghost. Especially not at the beginning,” Ghostbur had that sad tone in his voice but looked at Tubbo reassuringly. “It’s really disorientating to wake up in some strange place with no idea where you are - _who_ you are. Not knowing who other people are, why they act the way they do around you, what you’ve done to hurt them… it’s a lot to take in.” He locked eyes with Schlatt for a moment before turning back to Tubbo and smiling brightly, “But it does get easier! -and we’ll be here to help you!“

Tubbo returned the smile though his was more hesitant than Ghostbur’s. Schlatt spoke again, 

“You don’t have to rush into understanding everything -it’s best if you don’t, actually -you don’t have to remember much of anything if you don’t want to." He chuckled to himself, "you can be like Casper over here and stay blissfully unaware," he motioned to Ghostbur, who giggled at the notion. "Or you can learn everything about yourself and what mistakes you -the mistakes _all of us have made_ -to end up here." Schlatt looked solemn for a moment, "But you have all the time in the world to think about it, and we'll support you no matter what, kiddo."

Tubbo already knew what he wanted -what he _needed_ , but he appreciated his dad's sentiment. The boy was still for a moment as thick tears welled up in his pupil-less eyes, but his face donned a smile. He pulled the two ghosts into a tight hug and croaked out a quiet 'thank you', and buried his face into Ghostbur's shoulder. The two were surprised at first but promptly wrapped their arms around the boy in comfort. Schlatt's fingers gently combed through Tubbo's hair, careful to avoid his sensitive horns, especially the exposed nerves of his- now broken- left horn. (The kid had endured enough shock for one day, and what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.) The motion was practiced, and Tubbo melted into the touch with a pleased hum. 

Most ghosts remain at a relatively cold temperature no matter the climate or the thick sweaters they wore. Some with trauma related to the Nether or fire radiated heat. However, they tended to stick to hot areas or were trapped within the hell dimension itself. But by some miraculous means, _Tubbo felt warm inside_ . It was a pleasant heat that radiated from his chest and swelled as the boy felt safe for the first time in far too long. He was _warm_ and was left utterly bewildered by the feeling. 

But of course, their little slice of heaven was interrupted.


	2. Ghostly Father-Son Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff in this one :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tysm for nearly 100 kudos on this work ! I genuinely wasn't expecting so much support haha thank you :)
> 
> I've messed with the ages a bit in this au ! Here's Tubbo's ages throughout the timeline:  
> (3-5 years ago) Revolution = 12-14  
> (2 years ago) L'Manburg Election = 15  
> (1-2 years ago) Schlatt Administration = 15-16  
> (less than 1 year ago) Festival = 16  
> (began about 9 months before his death) Tubbo Administration = 16  
> (About a month before he wakes up) Executed = a few days before Tubbo's 17th birthday
> 
> Everybody else follows the same general pattern except for a few exceptions :) It's not all that important except for some later stuff when Tubbo's age is mentioned in reference to how young he was to be a literal war veteran lmao
> 
> No real TWs for this chapter since it's mostly fluff :)  
> See you in the end notes !

Tubbo and Schlatt's ears twitched at the sound of someone clearing their throat. The three ghosts unfurled at the noise, but Schlatt kept a steady hand on Tubbo's shoulder. Wilbur's face lit up when he saw who had approached.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but" Philza spoke in an apologetic tone, "there's a storm coming and I can't have my favorite ghosts getting caught in the snow now can I?"

Phil’s most striking features were in opposition to one another. Powerful, dark, feathered wings sprouted from his back while white, dainty, faerie antlers began at his temples and passively grew sweet, yellow flowers. His presence was intimidating and warm all at once.

The man looked nothing short of regal in his new winter outfit. A heavy periwinkle coat with impossibly fluffy, white wool around its collar enveloped his neck in the softness. The same trim edged the cuffs of thick light-blue gloves that matched his pants and tall periwinkle boots with the Antarctic Empire symbol on their shins. Various silver adornments and chains embellished the outfit and glimmered in the winter sun. Phil had even swapped his signature green and white hat for one with baby blue stripes that matched his new attire. The outfit featured dark, cool-toned jewels on the clasps of his coat, gloves, and shoes. Delicate silver chains draped from his hat in loops that featured a few of the same shimmering gems. 

Finally, hanging down to his chest was the deep crimson heart. Signifying his status as a hardcore player, it was both a badge of honor and a warning that he only had one life. He had a few other heart clasps he typically wore around his wrists, but they weren’t visible because of his gloves. 

To anyone who knew them, it was clear that Techno had gifted the new wardrobe to his father. While the man typically dressed simply in comfortable robes, Phil seemed to genuinely enjoy the winterwear his son had acquired.

"Dad!" His son spoke over him a little, but Phil just smiled kindly, used to his sons and their unique antics. Ghostbur was upright in an instant, hovering a few inches above the wooden platform below his feet, and speaking excitedly. "Have you seen Tubbo yet?" He gestured wildly to the boy. Phil gave a sad smile and a small wave to Tubbo, "-Or maybe he can be 'Ghostbo' now? Oh, Phil, I just knew he would have a green sweater- It's his favorite color, you know! I remembered that today!" 

Phil gave his full attention to Ghostbur and nodded along as his oldest son continued to ramble. Schlatt slowly lifted himself from the floor and hovered a few inches above the wood. The ram hybrid never liked to float nearly as high as Ghostbur had grown accustomed to. He dusted off his slacks and extended his hands to Tubbo, who took them. 

Schlatt helped his son stand up on tired legs as he spoke, "Ghostbur and I usually float around since walking takes a lot more energy."

His throat still scratchy, "Why's that?" Tubbo questioned as he steadied himself. 

"Well, to walk we need to be in contact with the ground," Schlatt lowered his feet back to the ground, "and being corporeal for long is real tiring," he let his feet phase through the floor a bit as he began to float again, "so we just hover most of the time." 

Tubbo hummed in understanding, waited a moment, and looked back up to his dad's face with stars in his eyes, "How do I do it then?"

Schlatt was hovering again now and grinning at his son's curiosity, "How do you float?"

Tubbo nodded eagerly as Schlatt absentmindedly scratched at his chin in thought, still smiling, "Geez kid, I thought the hard questions didn't come until puberty." He mumbled before snickering to himself, "I don't really know how to explain it. You gotta sort of stop feeling your feet," Tubbo looked puzzled, "-oh don't -don't give me that look! Just relax and think about where you want to be, and you'll end up there, it's kind of like walking in that way- it becomes second nature to you- I don't know, Tubbs." Schlatt punctuated his words with an unconvincing shrug. 

Tubbo looked both confused and a tad downtrodden now, "Oh, okay...I," Tubbo looked down at his feet and shifted awkwardly, "I think I get it?" 

"It's alright kid, you don't gotta lie to make me feel better," he chuckled. 

Tubbo looked back up. If his body had been capable of it, the boy would have been blushing in embarrassment.

"Let's try somethin' okay?" Schlatt spoke again and received a hum in response. Schlatt held out his hands to Tubbo, “It’s easier than you think," Tubbo grabbed each of his father's hands, "you just gotta relax. Your legs feel kinda tense, right?” Tubbo nodded with some hesitancy, “that’s because they’re physical right now. All you gotta do is relax and bam! You’ll be floatin’ in no time!" 

Schlatt was enthusiastic now as he continued, "tell me about something you enjoy- you still like bees, right?" Tubbo smiled, happy that his dad had remembered, "They were your favorite when you were little." Schlatt nodded with a grin on his face, "okay hit me with some bee facts kiddo! -And keep your eyes on me, alright?"

Tubbo took a deep breath and tried his hardest to relax. 

"Okay, um," Tubbo chuckled nervously, "well, the season and the types of flowers they pollinate will change how the honey tastes." The boy looked up at his dad, who looked utterly soft as he smirked like a dork. "I've heard that when bees get most of their pollen from almond trees, they make honey that tastes bitter. And I think I got to try Blueberry honey once." Schlatt gradually floated upwards, still holding onto Tubbo and looking his son in the eye, "I heard that when bees pollinate flowers with magical properties, their honey is said to give those who eat it good fortune. Or if they pollinate wither roses the honey can help cure people who have been withered. Those one's are more fairytales than anything, really, but I think they’re interesting." 

"How're you feelin' kid?" Schlatt asked at a lull in Tubbo's ramble.

"I'll be honest, Schlatt," Tubbo let out a disappointed laugh, "I don't feel any different."

Schlatt continued to slowly raise them above the wooden deck and kept his eyes on his son.

Smirking, Schlatt replied, "Really? Is that so?"

"Mhmm,” Tubbo frowned, “maybe I just can't do it."

Those big, honey-like tears formed in Tubbo's eyes again, and the boy heard bees buzzing around his head. He saw them out of the corner of his eye, but Tubbo kept his gaze on his dad as he was instructed. Schlatt looked apologetic at that and spoke softly. 

"Hey now, don't cry, little bee," Schlatt placed a hand on his son's face and wiped away his tears with his calloused thumb. "There's no need to worry. Look down at your feet," Schlatt smiled tenderly. 

Tubbo did as he was told and gasped when he saw that his battered sneakers didn't meet the ground. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked back up to meet Schlatt's eyes. 

Schlatt returned the smile, "Told you it was easy!"

The boy nearly tackled his dad in a tight hug, burying his face into Schlatt's sweater. Tubbo said something but the words were muffled by the fabric.

"What was that, bud?" he laughed.

Tubbo released his grasp on Schlatt and beamed up at his father, "Thanks, dad."

And  _ oh _ , did Schlatt melt at that.

The ram remembered every minuscule detail of the time he spent with Tubbo before he had to give him up. The kid was barely five years old when Schlatt had to leave him on Philza’s doorstep in the rain. He remembered trying to teach Tubbo how to read and write but never having the money for books or a tutor to help with his dyslexia. Schlatt taught him to count up to seventeen using pebbles. Whenever the boy couldn’t sleep at night, Schlatt would show him different constellations in the open sky above them. He would teach Tubbo Spanish, which the boy would use whenever he felt uncomfortable expressing himself in front of others. -Schlatt taught him a lot in the short time he spent with Tubbo as a young boy. But he wished he had been able to show his son so much more. 

Schlatt would’ve given anything to have spent just a few more years- months-  _ days _ with Tubbo before he had to give him up -he would’ve settled for an extra  _ hour _ with the boy. In all the time they were apart, Schlatt was pained by how much of Tubbo’s life he was missing out on. He knew that Phil would care for Tubbo as if he were his own, that he would teach him to be open-minded and self-confident. But Schlatt couldn’t help but wish that he could have been the one to show Tubbo the world. 

And now, more than twelve years later, Schlatt had taught his son how to float. It was somewhat morbid to think about, the action wasn’t difficult to complete, and it had only taken a few minutes of guidance, but Schlatt had taught his son to do it. And the joyous look on Tubbo’s face was absolutely precious to his father. He thought that he wouldn’t get the chance to teach the boy anything again, but even after all those years and everything that had happened, he taught him to float. And that meant everything to Schlatt. 

“Anytime, bee.” He gave Tubbo a final squeeze before releasing the boy and turning to Wilbur.

“Hey, Casper!” Schlatt called out in the direction of Ghostbur and Phil, “You staying here or coming home for the storm?” 

Ghostbur thought for a moment and looked back and forth between his father and the two ghosts as if he were deciding. Then his gaze landed on Tubbo. He hummed to himself in consideration before looking back to Phil.

“I think I want to go with them if that’s alright with you, Phil," 

“Oh, don't worry about me! Go on home mate-," Phil let out a soft 'oof' as Ghostbur crashed into him for a goodbye hug.

"Bye, dad!" Ghostbur smiled into the soft fabric of Phil's winter clothes.

Phil returned the hug in a short but tight squeeze, "See ya later, Wil," his voice was tinged with sadness as he released Ghostbur from his hold. Phil turned back to Tubbo and Schlatt, "you lot have got to get a move on now if you want to make it."

Tubbo felt his ears twitch as he overheard some kind of crashing noise from inside one of the nearby homes. He couldn't quite remember who exactly lived there.

Schlatt waved his hand dismissively, “yeah, yeah, we’ll get out of your hair Phil, I know you’re busy plotting to overthrow the government and being a dilf or whatever, but geez.” 

His tone was sincere, but Schlatt let out an airy laugh after speaking and had that playful smirk on his gray face.

“Bye Schlatt,” Phil contained himself after a moment. “Feel free to stop by for a chat any time you’d like, Tubbo.” The blonde grinned, and the boy returned it with a nod. Finally, he turned to Ghostbur, “goodbye, Wil. Check up on Techno’s house for me alright?” 

Wilbur nodded excitedly, “Of course, Phil! Bye!” 

With that, the ghosts turned to leave. Tubbo heard footsteps coming from the same house where he had heard crashing. His ears perked towards the commotion. Suddenly, the door to the small cottage swung open. 

“Wait!” Ranboo burst out of his house, helmet on his head and umbrella in hand. The crowd turned to see all the commotion, to which the lanky boy stopped in his tracks. “I uh- sorry- I couldn’t help but over hear- about the snow and everything! Not that I was listening! I wasn’t! I promise! I just-“

Phil had recently taken the boy under his (literal and figurative) wing, and chuckled at the boy, “Slow down there Ranboo, what’s up?”

“Right! I just- here!” He held out the umbrella to Tubbo who gingerly grasped its handle, “I use this when I have to go out in the rain- since water burns me, part of being half enderman and all- but I’m staying home during the storm anyways so I thought that you could borrow it -just in case, y’know?”

Tubbo inspected the umbrella for a moment; The plume of the thing had alternating green and red panels, a curved tortoiseshell handle, and shiny, black metal that worked the contraption. He gently pushed the little metal piece upwards and extended the armature until he heard a faint 'click'. Tubbo grinned as he spun the umbrella around a bit and held it above his head. The ghost looked back to Ranboo, who still seemed nervous.

Tubbo remembered quite a bit about the enderman-mystery hybrid compared to other members of the SMP. He was the minutes man while Tubbo was president and was often in meetings or helping him write decrees. Aside from official business, he recalled that they spent a lot of time together during his presidency. They were the youngest citizens of L'Manburg at the time since Tommy was... gone... and often found themselves building contraptions and completing tasks together. When Tubbo thought about it, most of what he remembered from his presidency was time spent with Ranboo or Sam. He tucked that thought away to the back of his mind for later consideration.

“Thank you, Ranboo!” Tubbo beamed up at him with a wide grin.

For now, he would head to wherever the other ghosts called home for some much-needed rest and time to sort out his thoughts. He knew that he needed to understand himself -that much was clear. But he had all the time in the world to figure things out. Just one night in with the ghosts cuddled up under a fluffy blanket couldn't hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get the next chapter up in about the same time frame of about a week and a half or so. This chapter was a bit slow but I promise ya'll things will be more interesting in the next ones as Tubbo plays detective with his own wack as hell memory and friends :)
> 
> God I love writing Schlatt I just adhd vomit in a new york accent, mf called Phil a dilf in this one lmao B)
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and comment your thoughts to feed my motivation !


	3. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo goes home to the ghost house and meets the fourth ghost of the server ;)  
> (Mostly fluff but not entirely)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be real with you the end of this is barely edited but I really wanted to get this out so that the real plot can get going :0 
> 
> TWs: brief descriptions of violence
> 
> ! ! ! Also: see the end notes for translations of the Spanish bits ! ! !

The outside of the cottage was nothing special. The building style was reminiscent of L’Manburg but combined with the charm of George’s mushroom house. All in all, it was small, but with moss and vines growing off the roof, a rustic fence surrounding the front yard, and light blue shutters that matched the front door, it was enchanting.  _ I bet Ghostbur chose the blue _ , Tubbo thought to himself with a smile. 

There were some fruit trees, a well-tended garden, and even a small barn neighboring the house. Tubbo was giddy at the thought of getting to keep bees on the little farm. His ears perked up, and Tubbo gripped the open umbrella he held in an attempt to contain his excitement. He wasn't sure if he was, hallucinating the buzzing sounds he heard around him or if they were simply a result of his eagerness.

The blue door creaked a bit as Schlatt pulled it open and looked to Tubbo with a grin. "Welcome home, Tubbo."

Tubbo closed the umbrella and promptly entered the cottage, a smile on his face. The atmosphere of the home was one of warmth. Well lived in and full of life despite the state of its inhabitants. It was a cozy space with a welcoming air to it. 

To his right, Tubbo spotted a piano and guitar among other instruments. He noticed that Wilbur must have been writing a new song as his sheet music was riddled with annotations and scratched out notes. A window seat was near to the musical area and faced the front yard. A few pillows and a soft blanket rested upon the bench. 

There was a large, soft rug that bridged from the instruments to the back of the home. A dark stained wood dining table with four chairs was in front of a window on the righthand wall and took up the rear right corner. A big, unfinished puzzle, a pencil and, a notebook sat upon it. 

To the left of the table was a large, comfy-looking brown sofa. The redbrick fireplace was across from the couch and was the primary light source in the room. There were a few blankets draped across a figure resting upon the sofa as they watched the flames.

A few bookshelves lined the frontmost left corner, their shelves filled with reading material, board games, nick-nacks the inhabitants had collected, and a few houseplants. There was a side door on the wall between the books and the couch, which lead to the farm. Two mismatched plush chairs and a small table were in front of them. A novel was left open face-down to a particular page sat on one of the cushions while a pair of glasses and an unlit lantern rested on the light wooden table. 

Between the couch and the table was the opening to a hallway with a few rooms leading off it. Most of the doors were slightly ajar, and Tubbo could see the last few rays of golden sunlight from within the rooms on the left. Various shelves, paintings, maps, a clock, and even a L'Manburg flag from Tubbo's presidency hung on the walls.

Glatt softened as the boy familiarized himself with the cottage, "It's not much, but I have a feeling you'll like it."

The boy looked to his father with a wide smile. "It's wonderful, Schlatt!"

Ghostbur drifted to the figure on the sofa. (Something Tubbo had glossed over in his investigation of the home.) The tall ghost floated up high in the air and leaned in front of the figure upsidedown with his head cocked to the side playfully. He reached out a gray hand and gently knocked on the ghost's red, white, and green mask. 

"Knock knock!" Wilbur giggled at the ghost before him.

Mexican Dream waved Ghostbur's hand away in dismissal, "no soy una puerta, man."

Schlatt let out a laugh at that, "Ghostbur, you don't gotta knock on the guy, christ."

Ghostbur hummed, still floating upsidedown, "yeah but, M.D.'s got to meet Ghostbo!" 

The masked man turned to face the boy, and Tubbo got his first glimpse at the third ghost of the SMP. He was tall, standing somewhere between Ghostbur and Schlatt, and wore a stereotypical Mexican shawl with a deep red-orange pattern and fringe around its edge. His mask was the same as Dream's, only instead of plain white, it was split into thirds with green on the left and red on the right. He had darker hair that he wore somewhat slicked back with a few bits hanging in front of his mask. 

"Hola, chico!" When the ghost got a look at Tubbo, he seemed a bit surprised and turned to Schlatt. His voice laced with concern. "Él es su hijo, Schlatt? Él es muy joven estar muerto." 

"Sí," Schlatt had a sad look on his face, "tiene diecisiete años."

M.D. removed his mask, pushing it up to rest on his head. Sorrow covered his grey features as he looked Schlatt in the eye. 

"Lo siento, mi amigo."

Schlatt just nodded to the man with a sad smile and gestured for him to talk to Tubbo. 

M.D. took the hint and turned back to the small boy, "hablas español? Porque no hablo ingles muy bien." 

Tubbo had to think for a moment, unsure of how to answer correctly. He knew  _ some _ Spanish, but he was definitely out of practice and doubted he could communicate effectively through the language. He was better at understanding than replicating the words and was pretty much useless with reading long passages in English, let alone a foreign language. Thinking back to what Quackity, Schlatt, and Niki had collectively taught him over the years, he formulated a sentence.

"Sí yo comprendo, pero no hablo mucho y yo no leo," his tone was nothing short of unsure, but his father and M.D. smiled at the effort. 

M.D. gave a thumbs up to the boy and wandered off down the hall and into a room.

"M.D. over there forgot how to speak English when he died. Usually, he gets the gist but, he's still learning." Schlatt watched as Ghostbur put a log on the dying fire. "Wilbur doesn't know any Spanish, so they're both working on it." He turned back to his son, his voice stern but not upset, "so, don't worry about messing up, alright?"

Tubbo nodded, to which Schlatt smiled brightly and ruffled his son’s hair, still careful to avoid the broken horn on his head. He knew that it was only a matter of time until Ghostbo would see himself or touch the sharp edge of tan keratin. But Schlatt couldn’t bring himself to be the one to tell the young ghost -especially because the boy would ask to know  _ why _ it was broke. 

Glatt had been paying attention when the break had occurred. He tried to intervene, of course, but he was utterly useless in his effort. Invisibility was a side effect of his ghostly form -it was such for a majority of the dead. Those with it could willfully activate the ability, though one couldn’t be heard or felt by the living when they weren’t visible. Most often, Schlatt enjoyed silently lurking around the SMP, drifting about checking in on people, occasionally leaving missing items on their bedside tables, and locking front doors at night to keep monsters away without leaving a trace. Always without a trace. 

Before the boy’s death, it was common for Glatt to follow Tubbo around. He would watch him hold meetings with Dream and Eret, and greet each citizen of L’Manburg with a dopey smile on his face. Schlatt cherished that he had the opportunity to know how his son was doing, to know without revealing himself. However, enticing as they may be when asked for, invisibility and other traditional ghost traits could easily cause utmost suffering. 

Glatt was well aware of this duality. He often found himself trapped in an invisible state, unable to interact with the world around him as the living fazed right through him. It was a curse of his -most ghosts were in some capacity. Ghostbur had a childish state of mind, blindly trusting and reckless he was constantly getting his feelings hurt by those who knew Wilbur and didn't understand why. M.D. struggled with communication and would often space out muttering to himself about friends thousands of miles away. He told Glatt that he heard music in his head when he was especially sorrowful. Schlatt himself would become invisible for indefinite periods and couldn't get the taste of alcohol off his tongue. Nor the smoke out of his lungs, when he became particularly emotional the toxic vapor would pour from his lips. 

Tubbo's final execution left his father in a state of total disarray. He tried to get involved - _ to save his son _ . But no matter how much he pleaded, his words fell on deaf ears, and arms fazed straight through the crowd. He shouted and fought, but all he could do was watch as Quackity brought down the back of a netherite ax on the tan keratin. He could only listen as a sickening  _ crack _ rang out and a sob wracked through the young boy as nerves met cool air and metal. He remembered feeling overwhelming guilt fill him like a glass of whiskey and had smoke leaving his mouth with every breath. 

J. Schlatt was ashamed of himself -of that day. It was ultimately Schlatt's fault that it occurred at all. The boy resembled his father, with brown hair, soft floppy ears, and curved horns upon his head. 

He promised not to be like his father but, he was doomed from the start. Tubbo wasn't a bad president. In comparison to his predecessors, he was probably the best president L'Manburg ever had. He made some mistakes, of course, but he did what he felt was best for the nation -even when it was a hard decision to make. Ultimately, Schlatt believed, his actions and the horns on their heads lead to Tubbo's execution that day. 

"Ghostbo!" Wilbur gasped excitedly as ever he grabbed the boy's hand. "You need to see your new room!" 

"Oh! Okay!" Tubbo laughed as Ghostbur tugged him down the hall.

Schlatt chuckled as they dashed down the hallway shaking his head before going off to do his own thing. They entered the last door on the left, both giddy with excitement. 

Tubbo looked around in wonder as Ghostbur explained, "We thought you'd like to have a room to yourself -since we all had our own! So we got Phil to help us build you one while we were waiting for you to wake up!" 

It was a cozy space with the same rustic feeling as the rest of the house. A sturdy wooden desk with a comfy-looking chair occupied one wall and looked out onto the farm. The room was lit by a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling by iron chains of various lengths. The walls featured only a few decorations, namely a L’Manburg flag from his presidency and a cuckoo clock. Though, there were also several (mostly empty) shelves. A few houseplants and a notebook sat on the short bureau with a mirror. A twin size bed was both parallel to the wall opposite the door. It was against the wall, to the left of the desk with a window above it. The sheets were green with a matching comforter and a collection of plush pillows. Tubbo recognized his stuffed bee sitting in the middle of the soft pile. 

“Where did you get this?” Tubbo asked as he tenderly picked up the plush with a fond look on his grey face. Ghostbo took a seat on his bed, sitting crisscross-applesauce on the plush surface.

“Oh!” Ghostbur floated over to the bed and inspected the bee. “They were going to get rid of everything! The stuff you had in the Whitehorse! -but I said,” he puffed up his chest, “‘those are my friend Tubbo’s things! And he’s going to want them when he gets back home! You can’t just throw them away!’ So I brought them here to keep them safe for you!” 

“Thank you, Ghostbur,” Tubbo looked up at the man, “that was very kind of you.” 

Ghostbur hummed, smiling. “You’d do the same for me.” He paused for a moment, "I can um... give you some time to yourself if you'd like? It's a lot to take in- being a ghost and all..." he trailed off.

"I think I'd like that," the boy spoke softly.

"Okay! I'll be playing the piano if you need me. M.D. is in his room across the hall, and Glatt is around here somewhere -in case you need them." He floated towards the doorway, where he turned back and waved to the boy, "Bye, for now, Ghostbo!

The young ram hybrid returned the gesture, "Goodbye, Ghostbur- and thank you, again." The older grinned at that before making his way down the hall and out of Tubbo's view.

Ghostbo gently pet the stuffed bee in his arm and watched as the first few snowflakes began to drift down from the clouds up above. The sun had nearly sunk beneath the horizon and bathed the landscape in shades of purple and red. The scene felt familiar, somewhere between deja vu and a faded memory of the past. He heard music playing from somewhere but, it wasn't Ghostbur's piano. The melody was pleasant. It reminded him of Tommy and the summertime. 

_ Maybe that's the answer... _

His hands stilled as he contemplated his idea.

_ Tommy knows me better than I know myself! Surely he'll be able to explain everything that happened.  _

A newfound determination filled the boy. 

_ Then all the things I remember will make sense! Why everyone was upset, why I hear music all the time, why he's mad- _

He saw bees flying around him now, buzzing about without a care in the world. 

_ Tommy hates me now... because I...  _

Ghostbo felt thick honey-like tears on his cheeks. 

_...I'm not sure what I did but...it must have been really bad to make everyone so upset... _

He clutched his plushie to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself.

_ Oh, dear, what if Tommy doesn't want to help me? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Important question: do ya'll prefer ~2500 word chapters with less frequent updates OR if I were to update more often but with ~1000-2000 word chapters ? lmk in the comments pls :)
> 
> Translations:  
> No soy una puerta - I’m not a door  
> Él es su hijo, Schlatt? Él es muy joven estar muerto - He is your son Schlatt? He is very young to be dead  
> Sí, tiene diecisiete años - Yes, he’s seventeen years old  
> Lo siento mi amigo - I’m sorry my friend  
> Hablas español? Porque no hablo ingles bien - Do you speak spanish? Because I don’t speak English well  
> Sí yo comprendo, pero no hablo mucho y yo no leo - Yes I understand, but I don’t talk much and I don’t read.


	4. Post-Mortem Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbo finally talks to Tommy, hoping that he'll be able to help him remember. -Things don't go according to plan. 
> 
> Early upload for ya'll ! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like the definition of hurt with comfort lol  
> TWs: Highkey descriptions of a panic attack and spiraling into a depressive state. The usual hallucinations and mentions of death  
> jfc don't interpret this as shipping I will implode ! ! ! They're literally my age, they're minors, it's gross, etc.  
> See you in the end notes ! :)

The truth of the matter was, Glatt and Ghostbur got to choose what they remembered from their lives -Ghostbo didn’t. 

From the moment he had awoken in that clearing the boy had been plagued by hallucinations and flashbacks from his life. He saw both the positive and the negative. He often heard laughter and music playing in the distance, see his bees buzzing around him happily. But he also saw his own bloodied corpse in the final control room and heard explosions much too close for comfort. He felt as if his burn scars were ignited once more and couldn’t get the taste of golden apple out of his mouth. 

Ghosts generally only remembered random parts of their lives; The worst moments. The best moments. Up until an event that deeply changed them. Only after they changed. They may know everything about themselves and absolutely nothing about anyone else. 

But more often than not, they could choose to remember more than what they were left with. Each ghost got to decide whether or not they would put together the puzzle pieces of their memories. 

Tubbo didn’t get to choose. 

The combination of his unwavering curiosity and his patchwork of memories-turned-hallucinations left him with no choice but to learn about himself. To solve the mystery that was his short life and correct his mistakes. It felt terrible to have so many people upset with him over things he couldn’t control. Ghostbo __ never did anything wrong, maybe  _ Tubbo _ did, but that didn’t leave the ghost to blame -did it? Then again, were they really all that different? In theory, they were the same- only one had been alive and knew why things were so strained. They had the same body (save for the grey skin), knew the same people, and lived the same life. It was just that one of them couldn’t seem to remember why festivals and invisibility potions put him on edge.

Maybe  _ curiosity killed the cat _ , but Ghostbo couldn’t stand to exist in this in-between state of knowledge and confusion. Nobody ever seemed to remember the second part of that saying, though. In his eyes, it was arguably the most important part. Because without it, he was just a foolish boy on a mission to ruin his own blissful ignorance. Ghostbo needed to know the truth about himself. He felt like a fraud, walking around in the body of someone he knew so little about, he didn't like it. And knowing himself would be reward enough for knowing the truth. Because  _ curiosity killed the cat _ ,  _ but satisfaction brought it back. _

* * *

Ghostbo waited outside of Tommy’s house for what felt like forever. He watched the bees around him as they lazily buzzed from one frostbitten flower to the next. It was a relatively nice day out despite the previous night’s storm. There was snow on the ground and the tops of trees and homes. Someone had already taken the liberty of clearing off the Prime Path. He wondered who had taken the time to do so and settled on either Bad or Niki. Everywhere he looked was blanketed in a sparkling white. The snow, reflecting the sun so brightly it made his eyes hurt a bit. Shifting his gaze, he watched as the icicles hanging from Tommy’s front doors slowly melted in the morning sun. 

_ I wonder where he’s gone off to… _

Ghostbo hummed to himself, still watching the icicles as they steadily dripped water onto the ground.

_ What if he doesn’t want to help me? Then what?  _

He chewed on his lip in worry, his brow furrowed.

_ Surely not- I mean, even if he’s mad at me because of… whatever I did, Tommy’s my friend. He’ll help me.  _

That’s when the blonde in question arrived, immediately making his presence known.

“'Ey dickhead!” The blonde shouted. “What do you think you’re doing on my lawn?”

Ghostbo turned to face Tommy. The ram was nervous, unbelievably so, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. The foul expression on the blonde's face did not assuage his fears. 

_ Tommy’s my best friend, there’s no reason to feel all anxious. He’s going to help me. _

“Ello, Tommy." Ghostbo had a small smile on his face. "It’s nice to see you again.” He hovered only about an inch above the ground -he was still getting used to floating after all. 

Tommy stopped in his tracks, purposefully keeping his distance from the ram. He took off his helmet, revealing disheveled blonde curls and a furrowed brow. He looked far less tired than when Tubbo last saw him, a fact that relieved the ghost. But Tommy held himself defensively, which only made Ghostbo's anxiety spike as the blonde was usually at ease around him. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?" Tommy huffed, annoyance explicit in his tone. He sounded almost disgusted when referring to Ghostbo. 

He was taken aback by the sharpness, his ears folded downwards. "I wanted to..." he wasn't sure what to say. He spoke softly, the far-away echo to his voice became more noticeable. "I was hoping that you would um..." The ghost avoided eye contact, fiddling with his green sweater sleeves. "Help me remember?" 

For a moment, it was deathly quiet. Just the two boys, standing in the snow.

Ghostbo's voice broke with the silence as he spoke again, "...Please, Tommy..."

Thick honey-tears gathered in Ghostbo's eyes, blurring his vision. He heard the bees buzz louder as they moved closer to circle him. For a moment, he saw obsidian under his feet instead of snow. The imagery caused his heart to ache with shame. He blinked, and it was gone. 

"Ghostbo," Tommy spoke with uncharacteristic seriousness, "I can't-"

"Why not?" Ghostbo shouted and looked Tommy in the eye. Newfound desperation filled him. "I need you, Tommy! I want to- I  _ need _ to understand! Please!" He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeves, "I- I don't know what I did wrong but-" he was nearly whimpering, "but I... I'm so sorry- Tommy, I-"

He had pleaded with Tommy like this before. Several times, actually. Tommy was stubborn, and sometimes it the only way to get through to him. Oftentimes, his begging did little to persuade Tommy. He remembered that much about the few fights they had when he was alive. He could plead with him for hours but, Tommy was far too headstrong to give in. 

"You..." his demeanor softened, "you really don’t remember?”

"No, I..." The energy seemed to leave him all at once, looking dejected, Ghostbo continued. "I wanted you to help me…" He hastily wiped at his tears again, "because you knew me better than anybody in the whole world. You're my best f-“

“-We’re not friends.” Tommy looked riled up again within an instant. 

Tubbo heard the words 'The discs were worth more than you ever were' echo in his head. He felt sick to his stomach- a sensation he wasn't even sure was entirely possible now that he was a ghost. 

Ghostbo looked equally confused and hurt, “but you said it was me and you against the world?”

Tommy mumbled something to himself. There was an edge of irritation to Tommy's voice. “I can’t help you, Ghostbo. I just- I  _ can’t _ do it." His words dripping with venom, he barked out, " _ We’re not friends _ ."

The ghost heard an explosion to his left, a violently disruptive force of fire and destruction. He could feel the familiar rumble of the earth below him, though his feet dangled above the snow-covered ground. Ghostbo was deathly afraid of the noise, of what it implied. But he kept his gaze on Tommy, something he had done before during the wars they fought together. He always looked to Tommy for strength, for a reminder of why they had to fight. Tommy didn't react to the explosion. 

Ghostbo tried to find the words, but he could only stammer. For a moment, he saw a younger Tommy standing there in L'Manburg revolutionary garb. A tricorn hat sat upon blonde locks, his blue overcoat stained with ash and blood. There was a fresh wound on his face where only a faded scar remained at present, and Ghostbo could smell the gunpowder that dusted his bandages and clothes. His eyes were wide with sorrow and glued onto the boy in front of him. The image shifted back to reality, making Ghostbo's head spin. 

Tommy's voice was unbelievably soft now, "Please… just go…” He trudged through the snow to his front door, not even glancing at the ghost as he passed him. When he reached the entrance, he opened it and paused for a moment. He spoke again without turning to face Ghostbo. 

“And don’t come looking for me again.” He punctuated the sentence by shutting the door behind him, knocking a few icicles down with the force of it.

Softly the ghost let out a broken, "I'm sorry."

Ghostbo didn't remove his gaze from the door for a long time. He knew it was a bit rude to stay there on Tommy's lawn after being shouted at to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The wind ruffled his hair, and he felt bitterly cold, but his scars burned with an endless stinging heat. 

Ghostbo looked more dead than ever before. His arms hung limply at his sides, he had his head down, his milky eyes were half-lidded, and he swayed a bit in the gentle breeze. His whole body was trembling slightly, and he didn’t even bother to wipe away his tears anymore. 

His thoughts were somewhere else, focused on the implications of Tommy’s words and how utterly hopeless he felt. Voices were ringing through his head again.

'You're just a pawn, Tubbo.' 

_ I'm not a- _

'We're not friends.'

_ But Tommy said that we- _

'Sidekick.'

_ I'm my own- _

'You're being a bad friend!'

_ I had no choice but to- _

'Techno is on our side. He won't hurt you.'

_ But, he did, Wilbur- _

'Just a yes man.'

_ I didn't want to upset anybody- _

'Traitor!"

_ I never- _

'You're acting exactly like Schlatt'

_ Please, stop- _

He barely registered his surroundings. He felt nothing at all, but his mind was rapidly descending a downward spiral of self-pity and anxiety. 

The bees picked up on his odd behavior and buzzed about nervously. Worried about their friend, they urged him to follow them. Landing on his sweater sleeves and collectively tugging at the weightless boy. It took some time, but eventually, Ghostbo got the message and lazily drifted in the direction. To which the bees excitedly buzzed about and continued to guide him along the oak pathway. They headed down the steep stairs towards L'manburg and eventually stopped just outside of the apiary. 

As Ghostbo arrived, Ranboo rounded the corner. He carried a clump of grass in his arms, his black and white tail swishing happily. The spindly boy let out a surprised enderman chirp when he spotted Ghostbo. 

“Hey, Ghostbo!” Ranboo smiled as he set down the grass and dirt in a seemingly random spot. “Did you come to see the bees?”

Ghostbo didn't quite hear him. The ghost was absolutely out of it. His eyes were unfocused, and he wasn't quite there at the moment. Ranboo looked at him, confused by his lack of an answer. 

“Oh dear, Ghostbo?” The taller looked worried now. “You don’t look so good…” He looked around, hoping to find the help of one of the other ghosts. Seeing nobody, he resolved to help Ghostbo on his own. “What do you need?” 

Ghostbo didn’t respond, just looked to the apiary distantly. 

Ranboo perked up and let out another noise. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

He held the door open for the ghost, waiting for Ghostbo to float into the dome until ducking his head under the doorframe and entering. 

Ghostbo sank down onto the grass. The ghost watched as his bees buzzed around excitedly, mingling with the inhabitants of the apiary. Ranboo followed awkwardly and sat down next to Ghostbo. He observed the bees as well but kept a close eye on the shorter boy. 

After a few minutes, Ranboo interrupted the quiet. “…Ghostbo?” The ender boy tilted his head in questioning as another involuntary noise left him. Ghostbo looked up in response to his name, seemingly less out of it now. Ranboo anxiously played with the grass as he continued to speak. “Did… Do you want me to go get someone? One of the ghosts, maybe? I um- I don’t really know what to do-“

Ghostbo just scooted closer to the taller boy so that their legs were touching. He then leaned against Ranboo’s side and gently grasped his dark hand.

Ranboo went stiff, “O-Okay, you just want to sit?”

Ghostbo gave a slow nod in response. He felt comfortable and safe in the presence of his friend. His eyes closed as he rested on Ranboo. The ghost listened intently to the sounds of Ranboo’s breathing and the bees buzzing about. His ears occasionally twitched when a bee got closer to him, but he was otherwise completely still. Ranboo relaxed into the hold, slouching to gently rest his head on top of Ghostbo's.

Another enderman noise escaped the taller boy, only this time it was one of contentment, “Okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love Ranboo lol ? I love that funky dude so much ya'll ! ! ! I'm actually writing a short work about his backstory in this au :0 I thought up somethin cool and I'm hyperfixating so I'll probably upload it in the next week or so !  
> Most of you guys preferred frequent chapters to longer ones so I'll be keeping that in mind ! I'm on full distance rn for school so I'll have more time to work on this fic in between classes and such. Expect the next chapter within the next week :)


	5. Memory Boy (Plural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbo and Ranboo hang out together in the apiary :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much exclusively fluff bc I hurt ya'll last chapter and felt bad about disappearing for like two weeks lol  
> TWs: None ! :)  
> See ya'll in the end notes !

The apiary air feels like a warm blanket on a freezing cold day. A fire was kept lit in the basement and provided a pleasant heat throughout its floors, keeping the bees content within their enclosure. The dome was heavily insulated and a bit humid, allowing for a wide array of colorful flowers to flourish in the space. Bright, green grass covered each level of the building and was perfect for laying in. 

“Do you think that one day things will be okay again on the server, Ranboo?” Asked the ghost. 

“Hmm, maybe.” The taller thought for a moment. “It’s hard to say really, I mean, I wasn’t really here for the beginning of it all.”

“It was a lot nicer back then, I think. I remember it being nice, anyway.” A fond smile formed on Ghostbo’s face. “We used to all be friends y’know? Even Dream would mess around with me and Tommy!” Their smile faltered, “but then everything got so serious -with the disks and L’Manburg and everything- And then the fighting became so  _ real _ .” He hugged his knees close to his chest, “it was the first time I ever felt legitimately scared on this server.”

Ranboo cleared their throat. “Obviously, I’ll never exactly understand what that was like for you, but I do get it -feeling unsafe where you should be comfortable. It’s really hard. I-“ They took in a deep, shakes breath, “I don’t know if I ever told you before you died… why I’m here… in the Overworld,” Ranboo’s face was full of sorrow and they spoke softly, “but I- um…”

Ghostbo placed a comforting hand on their shoulder and offered a kind smile. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Boo.”

“No I… I do it’s just been a long time since I talked about it.” They let out a sad laugh, “it’s one of the only things I can remember actually. But I ended up here in the Overworld because my people- in the End- they were very  _ very _ sick.” Ranboo busied his worried hands by fidgeting with the grass in front of him. “It was some new disease that we didn’t have a cure for, so those of us who were healthy were sent out to gather some plants and stuff for the scholars working back home. But then when I got here…” they trailed off. “Traveling to the End isn’t allowed on this server, and since I’m from the End and a hostile hybrid, I’m not registered in the universal database. So I can’t just go to another server…” They sat in silence for a moment. “I can’t go home until the rules change. It’s only been a few months I think- And I had lived in the End for my entire life up until I came here but I…” They were tearing up now and hastily wiped at their eyes. “…I’m starting to forget, Ghostbo, I… I’m really scared…” They made a noise somewhere between a sob and a sad enderman chirp. 

Ghostbo pulled their friend into a tight, comforting hug. “I’m so sorry, Ranboo. I wish there was something I could do to get you back home…” Ranboo sniffled and clung to the short boy. “I know! You should tell whoever’s in charge of L’Manburg!“ Ghostbo brightened at his own idea, “I’m sure they’ll help you make Dream allow it! Dream and XD- they should make an exception for you, it’s not your fault that you ended up in a server that doesn’t allow End travel.”

Ranboo gave the boy a small smile. “Thank you, Ghostbo. No one is really in charge of L’Manburg right now- it’s sort of anarchy, actually. But I think some people are trying to instill a government again- power-hungry people.” The talker looked a bit worried, “I don’t know- I’m trying to distance myself from everything.” They shrugged. “I’ll be sure to tell whoever ends up on top though. Or maybe just Techno and Phil- they’ve both been really nice to me lately."

Ghostbo nodded, backing away from their embrace a bit. "Phil is a very kind man."

Ranboo smiled and wrapped an arm around Ghostbo's shoulder. "Yeah! Didn’t he like, raise you?"

"Mhmm," Ghostbo nodded again and leaned into Ranboo's side. "Schlatt left me with Phil because he couldn’t take care of me and wanted me to have a better childhood. It was nice, definitely better than sleeping outside and starving to death." The ghost gave an almost sad chuckle. 

"True, true." Ranboo said in agreement. 

"You should’ve seen when I was first introduced to Schlatt a few years ago." Ghostbo smiled in reminiscence. "He just showed up one day, running for election, and won the vote with Big Q only to immediately exile Tommy and Wilbur and make  _ me _ of all people his Secretary of State." He chuckled. "I’ll be honest, I was fucking terrified of him at first. But I think he’s been a great dad even though I’ve only known him for a short time." Ghostbo paused for a moment. The two sat in silence before the boy spoke again, quieter now. "Everyone says that he was a tyrant… but I just don’t see how that could possibly be true- I don’t remember him doing anything bad when he was alive, but I know that there are holes in my memory. It’s all so strange to think about." He hugged his knees close to his chest.

The taller boy nodded in solidarity, "yeah, memory is super weird. Trying to put things together is always the hardest part, I think. We don't really um, have parents in the End, but I can see how that would be hard for you... With Schlatt and everything..." They trailed off. 

"I guess we’re both memory boys now, huh?" He smiled up at Ranboo, careful not to look them in the eyes. 

"Yeah," they pulled Ghostbo closer, "I guess we are." Ranboo smiled and let out a happy chirp.

* * *

Ranboo cleared their throat anxiously, "do you mind if I ask what upset you earlier?"

They were in the basement now. Ranboo was feeding the woodstove while Ghostbo floated about, paying close attention to the ender hybrid. 

Ghostbo thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Hmm, we’re friends so, no, I don’t mind it." The ghost smiled. "I waited for Tommy outside his house all morning so that I could ask him to help me remember everything. I thought that since he knew me, or rather, Tubbo better than anyone, he’d be a good place to start. But, when I asked him, he got really angry with me. Especially when I said that we were friends." Ghostbo looked confused and sad now, his color drained, and he became less opaque. "I saw him standing there in his revolutionary outfit and was hearing things too but, I don’t think they were real? I mean, Tommy didn’t react to them at all. It was strange. Then he went inside and…" The ghost looked perplexed. "I don’t really remember what happened next. I felt really sad, and then I was outside the apiary when I found you."

Ranboo chirped. "That’s happened to me before." Ghostbo regained some color. "I call it the 'sleepwalk state' because I’m moving about and stuff but, obviously, I’m not- like- conscious while it’s happening. I’ve only done it a few times but, it’s really disorienting. You seemed super hazy and out of it when I saw you at first. I’d say you looked dead but-" The two of them both chuckled at that.

"Yeah I…" Ghostbo trailed off, looking to the cellar door at the apiary. "I think the bees lead me here."

It was Ranboo's turn to look confused now. "They brought you from Tommy's house all the way over here?" They set down a few logs inside of the furnace. 

Ghostbo shook their head. "No, no, the ones that hang around me all the time brought me here."

"Hmm, I don’t know if I’ve seen them then." Ranboo answered.

"Really? I haven’t been around for long but, they’re almost always with me." Ghostbo was surprised. "Maybe you just don’t remember them?"

"Hold on." The two exited the cellar, and Ranboo rummaged through their bag, quickly spotting their journal. They sat down on the grass, Ghostbo followed. Ranboo flipped through the pages of the book. All of their writings were done in Ender script, and they mumbled to themself in Ender as they skimmed through the pages. Eventually, they turned to Ghostbo and spoke, "I didn’t write anything about bees in my notes from yesterday, apart from when I came here to keep the heat going and check on them. Maybe I just didn’t notice them." Ranboo shrugged.

Ghostbo hummed. "Oh, okay."

* * *

"Do you reckon you can teleport, Boo?" The ghost asked as he floated around the taller boy, bees buzzing around him. 

Ranboo made a confused noise as they shut the lid to the hive they had been checking. "I can’t remember if I ever knew how. I feel like it wouldn’t be great for my non-ender half though." Their face scrunched up in discomfort at the thought. 

"hmm yeah, maybe, but when enderman teleport with blocks, they always seem fine." Ghostbo casually drifted, slowly twisting around and practicing their balance. 

Ranboo stammered, "I- …I’m not a grass block, Ghostbo," they pointed to themself with a lopsided smile, "I have like organs and bones and stuff in here."

The boy laughed, "I don’t!" Ghostbo made an "oooOOOoo" sound imitating a stereotypical ghost sound, and wiggled their fingers at Ranboo. 

"Boneless Tubbo, what will he do?" Ranboo chirped curiously, smiling wide. 

"Crime!" Ghostbo playfully tackled Ranboo to the ground, both of them were laughing. The two wrestled around on the grass for a bit. Joyfully shoving one another around without any ill intent behind the roughhousing. After a while of friendly scuffling, Ghostbo found themself pinning Ranboo down. 

"Oh no! I’ve been defeated!" Ranboo played dead, their tongue spilling out of their mouth and giggles bubbling up in their chest. 

Ghostbo threw his arms up into the air. "Victory for the dirty crime ghost!" They laughed, their smile beaming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the love of god just let them be kids pls ! ! !   
> Sorry I disappeared ! I missed ya'll ! It was the end of the semester for me and I had a ton of shit to do, but I'm back now and with more time to write ! Look forward to a certain orphan fox and fiery panda man in the next few chapters ;)  
> ! ! ! Also ! ! !   
> I'm going to be posting a little side project about Ranboo in this au so make sure to sub to this series so you'll see it ! :0


	6. Cemetery Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbo is summoned to his grave by Fundy. The fox is less than thrilled to see him :/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm not dead lol <3  
> TWs: Bit of an argument, Talk of death (specifically Wilbur's), Lil bit of a flashback / hallucination moment but it's super short  
> See you in the end notes ! :)

Ghostbo had only just left the apiary when he started to feel it. It was as if his legs had fallen asleep and that pins and needles sensation was creeping its way up throughout his entire being. His bees were acting erratically, buzzing loudly and moving frantically due to Ghostbo’s distress. The ghost looked confused and scared, but nobody was around to help them. The docks were empty save for some dogs napping peacefully in a big cuddle pile, soaking in the early evening sun. 

His panic rose as the tingling reached his head and he began to go invisible. The bees continued to circle around Ghostbo landing on his shaking hands in an attempt to comfort the boy. The sensation continued and grew in intensity. Ghostbo blinked away thick tears and whimpered in fear.

Then, all at once, the tingling feeling began to fade. Ghostbo perked up at this, his ears tilting upwards. He sniffled again and wiped at his face with his green sweater sleeve. They could feel themself slowly becoming visible again as the prickling sensation died down. The static feeling left him starting with his head and ending in his toes, in opposition to how it began.

“…Tubbo, you had to…” Ghostbo heard the name spoken in a hushed tone and clearly taken from the middle of a statement. The sound made their ears perk up again as they scanned the surrounding area for the source. The speaker had a unique accent and their voice made them happy on some instinctual level.  _ They must have been a friend of mine while I was alive?  _ Ghostbo thought. He couldn’t quite pinpoint who it was though. 

Looking around the ghost noticed that they were in a small graveyard. There were a few gray headstones, only four of them to be exact. The area was surrounded by a quaint white picket fence and the snow on the ground was largely undisturbed save for a set of footprints leading in through a gate in the fencing. The steps lead to the second grave where the person seemed to have moved around a bit and had left a bundle of flowers. Ghostbo’s eyes followed the tracks as they continued to the fourth headstone where a figure had kneeled down in the snow. Ghostbo himself stood behind the last headstone of the group. The figure had their head was in their hands and they spoke softly to themself. Messy ginger hair sat on their head alongside a dark hat and two fluffy, drooping fox ears. There was a black hat sitting in their lap and the ghost noticed a white-tipped tail peeking out from under the person's dark coat.

“…no choice…” the fox hybrid said quietly. Ghostbo could tell the person was crying. He wanted to comfort them, but it felt rude to interrupt their private moment. 

The ghost crept forwards maneuvering around the gravestone in between him and the figure. Then they lowered themself so that they were sitting with their legs crisscrossed and hovering just barely above the snow. Ghostbo hesitantly reached out a hand, their head tilted in curiosity. Slowly their cold, gray fingers came into contact with orange locks. The person flinched at the touch. They looked up at Ghostbo and thin pupils met white orbs. 

“Hello,” Ghostbo’s voice was soft and had an airiness and echoey quality to it. "You're Fundy if I remember correct?"

"Yeah..." Fundy looked somewhere between surprised and uneasy. “Ghostbo… I didn’t mean to summon you here,” he looked away from the ghost and moved the hand off of his head.

“You summoned me?” The ghost asked curiosity filled his voice. “Is that why I felt all fuzzy and ended up here?”

The fox hybrid huffed, swiftly wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t mean to though. You don’t have to be here.” Fundy was bordering upon being categorized as an “angsty teen” with his tone and attitude.

“Oh…” Ghostbo looked downtrodden for a moment but quickly perked up again. “Well, since I’m here, maybe you could help me?”

Fundy looked at the boy with a mix of anger and confusion on his face. “Why should I do that?”

“I- well… I’m not really sure…” The ghost fidgeted with his sweater sleeves nervously. “I mean I don’t know what I did to upset you… I hurt a lot of people and I want to make it up to everyone so I’m trying to remember everything.” Fundy was surprised by that, the rest of the ghosts seemed to be uninterested in their pasts. Ghostbo’s voice wavered as he continued, “-but Tommy refused to help me and Ranboo can’t remember much since his book was stolen…”

The fox looked a bit shocked, “ _ Tommy _ said no to helping you?” Ghostbo nodded sadly and Fundy softened, his ears tilted downward. “Wow… I knew he was upset but…” he looked Ghostbo in the eye and paused for a moment. “Listen, Ghostbo, when my dad died I was really mad at him… he was always a manipulative person. He wasn't the best dad- there’s no doubt about that, but he did care about me. He cared too much about too many things. But by the end of his life… all he cared about was destroying everything we had worked for -he just wasn’t himself anymore.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course, Ghostbur doesn’t remember any of it, but I was so- so-  _ furious _ with my dad that I just couldn’t bare to be around his ghost- even though they aren’t the same person at all.” Fundy shrugged. “Tommy probably just needs some time to separate you and Tubbo in his mind. He’ll come around eventually.” 

“I didn’t think of it that way, thank you, Fundy.” Ghostbo smiled but deep down he felt like Tommy would never come around to the idea. The blonde was stubborn and known to hold grudges. 

“Don’t mention it,” the fox smiled back showing a few of his sharp teeth in the process. 

They sat quietly for a moment before Ghostbo broke the silence. “Fundy?” The Fox hummed in response. “My third death… you were there for it…” Fundy stiffened and gave a sharp nod. “Was my death like Wilbur’s? Did I lose my mind? Is- Is that why I had to die?” Their voice was oddly calm, contrasting the nervous buzzing feeling in their chest.

The fox took a moment to respond. “I, um,” he swallowed thickly and couldn’t meet the ghost’s eyes. Fundy looked guilty and spoke softly, “it was something like that, yeah.”

“I failed as a president…” He looked up at the pale blow sky and watched as puffy white clouds slowly passed by. “…didn’t I?”

Fundy took a deep breath, pausing before speaking again. “Y-yeah… we- people __ weren’t happy with some decisions of yours… you were too much like Schlatt for anyone’s liking.”

Ghostbo closed his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled through their hair. The chill made the exposed nerves of his broken horn surge with dull pain. “Fundy?”

“Yes?” The fox said.

“Was I really like Schlatt? -Like the scary, drunk Schlatt everyone talks about?” Ghostbo grimaced as he tried to imagine his father as some greedy businessman only in it for himself. “I couldn’t have been that cruel? Was I?”

“I thought so.” Fundy whispered, sounding slightly ashamed. “I know what it’s like to be compared to your own father" He raised his voice above a whisper. "-but it wasn’t a coincidence, if that's what you're asking. And it was based on more than just your appearance.” His belief in the statement was unwavering. 

The ghost paused for a moment, deciding whether or not he should ask what he wanted to. “I can't picture how I died exactly, I know what happened but not the order of things. I know it was about this time of day, I was cornered up on the podium, Techno had some long speech, my horn was broken." He spoke with his hands to let out some anxiety. "I can remember the faces of everyone who was there. I think we used to be friends? -but that day you looked…” Ghostbo looked confused and hurt, “like you were happy…?” 

“I’m sorry, Tubbo, but something had to be done.” The fox stood up and adjusted his coat stiffly before placing his cap on his head. 

“But why?” Ghostbo pleaded, floating up to match Fundy’s standing position. “Why did it have to be death, Fundy? I’m sure I didn’t mean to-“

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do!” Fundy snapped at the boy, he was yelling now. “What  _ happened _ is what’s important!” He jabbed a clawed finger into the ghost’s chest. Ghostbo recoiled from the touch. “ _ You  _ exiled Tommy to suck up to  _ Dream _ of all people! _ ”  _ Fundy poked at him again sharply.  _ “You  _ went back on your word to your cabinet!” He jabbed at the boy, who in turn flinched and backed away. “ _ You’re the reason _ _ Techno summoned those withers and destroyed my home! _ ” Fundy had tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat as he harshly poked Ghostbo one last time.

‘You’re acting like Schlatt!’ He heard Fundy’s words but the hybrid’s lips weren’t moving. 

‘I wanted Wilbur to be president- not you.’ Tommy spoke this time, the phrase felt like a branding iron to his brain. 

‘What the hell was that, Tubbo? That wasn’t the plan!’  _ Quackity _ . Ghostbo remembered that the duck hybrid rarely yelled at them in anger but this moment was an exception. 

‘You’re the worst president L’Manburg has ever had!’ This voice was engrained into the ghost’s mind. Dream taunted him shortly before he was killed. 

The fox stepped back from the boy and scowled at him as if he had been burned. Fundy spoke again, “I told you that I didn’t want you here- so just go already.” He snarled at Ghostbo, bearing his teeth as his tail swished angrily behind him.

“O-okay…” The ghost was crying now with big tears in his white eyes. His bees floated close to him, trying to support the boy. With his ears drooping and gaze lowered Ghostbo looked like a lost and wounded puppy. “m’ sorry, Fundy…” 

Fundy just scoffed at the ram hybrid and trudged away through the snow. Ghostbo felt the tingling sensation creep up from his toes again. This time he wasn’t afraid of the feeling but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. He felt himself slowly materialize exactly where he had been before his initial teleportation. 

Hovering just barely above the docks he looked out at the ocean. The sun was about to reach the horizon line and gave the world a golden glow. Ghostbo sniffled and lowered himself to “sit” on the wooden dock. He watched as his bees buzzed around him and the surface of the water. The subtle breeze and sounds of the waves crashing against the shore calmed the boy greatly. Ghostbo decided that he liked the docks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting I was busy having executive disfunction and rationing my adderall for when I'm actually in school bc your bitch had adhd B)  
> ANYWAY ! Fundy being an angsty teen ? Yeah <3 smp!Fundy has so much fuckin trauma lmao /hj  
> Super hyped for the next few chapters ! ! ! Sapnap is in the next one and if you've read my Ranboo book you already KNOW that I'm a sucker for Sap being friends with the smp kids ! Also gonna see Karl, Big Q, and Techno soon so get hyped my little pogchamps ! ! ! Next chap will be out in the next few days bc I have most of it finished already :D


	7. The Ghost and The Blaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap and Ghostbo hang out together :)
> 
> Super early upload pog !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super early update bc I love you guys and have been waiting for this chapter for months ! !
> 
> TWs: None that I know of, but please do lmk if I missed something so that I can add a warning :)
> 
> See you in the end notes !

“Hey, it’s uh- Ghostbo right?” The voice spoke in an American accent, a southern one, and the person’s tone was relaxed. 

The ghost in question turned his head to see the speaker. He was a blaze hybrid with tanned skin and a white bandana around his forehead. He had black hair, five blaze rods circling him, and warmth radiating off of him. 

Ghostbo nodded in response to his words. 

“I’m Sapnap!” He enthusiastically held out his hand for the boy to shake.

The ghost giggled a bit. “I know who you are, Sapnap!” He smiled at the man. “I think I remember you well.”

“Oh,” the hybrid chuckled, “do you mind if I join you then?” Ghostbo shook their head. “Sweet!” Sapnap took a seat next to Ghostbo on the edge of the dock. 

They sat quietly for a while as Sapnap took off his shoes and dangled his feet off the edge of the dock. It wasn’t often that the man found himself willingly interacting with water -the stuff could kill him after all. But he had to admit that soaking his sore feet in the freezing ocean felt amazing. Of course, he had to be careful and couldn’t stay in it for long or his fire could go out, but it was nice nonetheless. 

“What were you doing out here all by yourself, lil’ dude?” Sapnap broke the silence between them, sounding a bit worried. 

Ghostbo shrugged, in all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure. “I just kind of ended up here I guess.” He paused. “I mean, it’s the closest thing Tubbo had to an actual home that's left. I like it here, it's calmer, hardly anybody ever comes by.” His voice was tinged with sadness. 

Ghostbo had spent the past few days on the dock just staring out at the water and listening to their bees buzz about. They couldn't exactly sleep, being a ghost and all, but they had somehow remained in the area over the course of several days and nights largely by themself and not doing much of anything but watching the horizon. He had been visited at one point by Schlatt who brought him his communicator that the younger had forgotten at the cabin. His dad sat quietly with him for awhile before giving Ghostbo a tender hug and going invisible. The device sat in his pocket and was a familiar weight, he had felt it vibrate several times over the course of his sitting on the docks but he hadn't bothered to check the messages. They occasionally felt eyes on them, but no one had approached them aside from their father before now. 

“If you want," Sapnap said, knowing that the boy had been out on the docks for several days now, "you can come hang out with me for a bit if you’re lonely?" 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Ghostbo smiled. 

* * *

“Why did you kill me?”

Sapnap paused his tidying, “….Why did I- ….What?”

The man was disturbed as he looked up from the bag of flour in his arms. He set down the sack with a soft thud and leaned on the countertop. The two stood in mutual silence for a moment as the older tried to collect his thoughts. The raging fire in Sapnap’s eyes seemed to die out a bit at the realization. The rods surrounding him orbited slower and emitted far less smoke. 

"Toby, I…" Sapnap was uncharacteristically quiet now, “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Ghostbo rested a gray hand on top of Sapnap’s. “You didn’t know it would kill me -not that it would count, anyway. I’m not upset with you, Sapnap.”

The older of the two took his hands from the counter and ran them through his hair. Sapnap unconsciously fixed his bandana -a nervous tick of his Ghostbo recognized- as he let out a groan.

“No, Tubbo, it’s not okay! Shit, I-“ his voice was louder now but still shaky. “You were what? Thirteen? I was younger than you are now and I -I took your first life, Ghostbo!" Sapnap looked utterly horrified. "Shit- I killed the friendly pacifist kid! -And for what? Some stupid war kids shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place?” 

The man before Ghostbo looked unbelievably hurt and distraught, but the ghost was unsure of how to comfort him. The blaze rods moved around erratically due to his heightened emotions. Sapnap took in a breath to steady himself, which caused the bars to slow. He went back to speaking in a hushed tone. 

“Dream told me that you lost your first life before Phil took you in. That you-  _ a five year old _ had starved to death in the freezing rain. That’s what he said to me when I asked if…” Sapnap looked off into the distance. Black smoke left his mouth in small puffs of distress as he spoke. “I didn’t believe him at first -told him that I would’ve remembered something like that… but then he…” his eyebrows were furrowed up in confusion, and a little of his fire died out again, “he showed me your file in the code and the communicators and… I stopped arguing with him about it… but I’ve always had the suspicion that he…that I was the one to...”

“Hey, I…” Ghostbo placed a cold hand on Sapnap’s warm shoulder, “…if it helps you feel any better…” they offered him a tiny smile, “I can barely remember it now!”

Sapnap returned the ghost’s sad eyes with a look of utmost sympathy and tenderness. They stood in the quiet again before Sapnap pulled the boy into a hesitant hug. Sapnap's hand cradled the back of Ghostbo’s head which leaned against the man's chest. While Sapnap's other arm wrapped securely around the ghost's upper back. The smaller silently returned the hug and Sapnap buried his face in Ghostbo's hair. Even as a ghost, he could feel the heat radiating off the nether-born man. They stood there for a long time in the comfortable embrace as their conversation continued. 

“It’s not fair that you’ve had to go through so much shit, Ghostbo,” Sapnap chuckled a bit though there was no humor to it. “You're a good kid. I mean, look at you! You're seventeen and  _ dead _ , but you're here  _ forgiving me _ for taking your first life?" He laughed a bit -more genuinely this time. "You never deserved to be dragged into this mess. I'm sorry that I -that the  _ adults _ around here never thought about anyone but themselves." He lowered his voice, "Nether below, I wish I had just listened to my dad..." Sapnap squeezed the boy tighter. 

Ghostbo noted that the man smelled like smoke and metal, but not that of explosives. No, Sapnap smelled like coming home to a glowing, welcoming fire after spending the day out in the icy snow. The ghost melted into the heat Sapnap gave off; the blaze hybrid was so warm that Ghostbo felt nearly human again. He noticed that Sapnap's blaze rods were circling the two of them,  _ a sign of trust and comfort in blazes _ , Ghostbo remembered. 

Ghostbo heard bees buzzing and saw that the creatures were flying around Sapnap and themself, weaving around the bars playfully. Sapnap had a confused look on his face as he followed Ghostbo's gaze. 

"What are you looking at there, Tubs?" He asked. 

The boy hummed matter of factly, "The bees."

The two broke away from their embrace. "Hate to break it to you but, I don't see any bees, Bo." Sapnap smiled a bit, but still looked quizically at the boy.

"Really?" Tubbo questioned as he held out his hand lazily and watched as a honey bee landed on his index finger. "I see them all the time."

Sapnap hummed in thought as he retrieved a large bowl with a cloth covering it, "Do you see other things too, or just bees?"

"Now that you mention it, I don't think Ranboo can see them either." Tubbo watched intently as the bee crawled around on his fingers, "I'd reckon that I see things all the time."

Sapnap's face was riddled with concern now, though the ghost didn't notice. He uncovered the bowl to reveal tan dough and rolled up his sleeves as he spoke. 

"I've heard stories of ghosts who've had some pretty severe hallucinations, Ghostbo. What... what kinds of things do you see?"

“I see lots of things, really." Ghostbo shrugged nonchalantly and sat themself down on the counter behind Sapnap. "I see people sometimes. Mostly Dream, Tommy, Alivebur, and Technoblade. They always look so upset with me, but I haven't a clue as to why," his brow furrowed in confusion at the thought. 

His bewilderment only doubled as he inspected the bee that was crawling around on his scarred digits. Ghostbo noticed that it was a worker bee rather than the typical drone -a strange sight considering worker bees spent most of their time in the hive with the queen. Sapnap dusted his hands and the surface of his countertop with flour. He began to take the dough out of its bowl. 

"I think I hear things too things- like laughter- and- and explosions?" The boy looked to Sapnap with a distressed expression on his ghostly face. "And there's this song? I- I hear it all the time. But it always sounds so far away that I can't quite make it out..." Ghostbo trailed off deeper into their own confusion. 

Sapnap halted his baking, dusting off his hands with a towel before placing one on the boy's shoulder. "You don't have to talk to me about this if you don't want to, Ghostbo." He looked the ghost in the eyes, his voice firm but still kind. "You should probably talk to someone about it, but it doesn't have to be me."

"No, I want to talk about it with you," Ghostbo gazed at the man for a moment, "it's just hard to remember what's real and what might have been all in my head." 

Sapnap nodded and went back to his baking. Ghostbo gazed out the window at the darkened forest around Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap's house. It wasn't nearly pitch black out just yet since the sun had only just set but Ghostbo thought the woods were scary nonetheless. 

"Sometimes, I see you, too." He spoke quieter now. "Usually, it's you swinging your ax down on me." Ghostbo kept his gaze out the window to avoid any pained looks from Sapnap. "Most of what I remember about you is the good times though -before the war and everything- it's why I was so confused about why you killed me." He thought for a moment. "Maybe I won't hallucinate you anymore now that I know it was an accident?"

"I really hope so." Sapnap said earnestly.

There was quiet again for a few minutes. The only sounds being Sapnap gently kneading his dough and setting down two metal loaf pans. 

"I think I only see big things when I get super nervous and confused." Ghostbo said. "Like when I first woke up- I was really scared and kept seeing people and hearing Tommy yell at me. But then Ghostbur and my dad helped me feel better and everything was okay." He smiled at the recent memory of the two. 

"When do you think you see smaller things?" Sapnap spoke up. "If you can figure out what your triggers are, then others can help you avoid them."

Ghostbo hummed. "Well I think when people yell at me and stuff is one of the big ones, really. But I think it also depends on who and why they're upset with me so I'm not sure what to avoid." The young ghost looked confused and a bit frustrated. "I need to know now though! I can't just go around panicking and moping all the time!" He pouted. 

"That's okay," Sapnap said simply as he separated out the dough and plopped one half into a pan. "It only makes sense that it'll take some time for you to figure things out. You've only been awake for what? A couple days now?" He continued in an exasperated tone. "Figuring yourself out is hard, dude, trust me. I've been out here existing for nearly twenty years now and I still surprise myself all the time!" He smiled as he plopped the rest of the dough into the second pan and dusted his hands off. "Hell, I didn't even know I liked men until Karl showed up a couple years ago! And now look at me, engaged to not one but _two_ men and happier than ever with them! Sometimes you just have to wait it out, and there's nothing wrong with that." 

Sapnap placed the two pans into the oven and took a moment to bask in the heat of it for a moment before shutting the door. Ghostbo watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, only for his bangs to immediately fall back into place. 

"Thank you, Sapnap." Ghostbo said.

Sapnap promptly replied with a warm smile, "don't worry about it, Tubs."

Ghostbo's ears perked up as he heard a pair of laughter from outside the house. Sapnap didn't pick up on the sound as his hearing wasn't enhanced like the ram's was. 

"Sapnap?" Ghostbo asked a bit hurried now that he knew the man's fiancés were approaching.

"Yeah?" Sapnap said, nonchalant as ever.

"Do you know where Phil and Techno live? I wanted to visit them with Ghostbur, but I think he must have left by now." They hovered close to Sapnap as he cleaned off his counter of flour. 

He paused his cleaning for a moment to think. "I haven't ever been out there if I'm being honest. Too cold for my tastes." He shrugged. "But I know Alex has a compass that points there, I forget why he got it in the first place, something about that Butcher Army he was on about for awhile…?” He mumbled to himself, trying to remember, before waving it off. “It doesn’t really matter. I could ask him to let you borrow it if you want?” 

Ghostbo nodded enthusiastically, “yes please!” His bees buzzed happily around his shoulders and whizzed about excitedly as the ghost’s mood shifted.

“Okay!” Sapnap chuckled as he put the sack of flour away. “He should be coming home with Karl soon if you want to stick around for a minute?” 

The ghost’s fluffy ears twitched as he heard the conversation outside approach. Both of them heard and instantly recognized Quackity’s laugh, closer now.

“Oh, that sounds like them!” Sapnap brightened. Excited to see his fiancés, his rods spun quickly for a moment before returning to their normal pace. “You have good timing, lil’ dude!” He ruffled the boy’s hair playfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll can have a little extra early upload, as a treat uwu
> 
> Can you tell I love karlnapity ? Bc these three are so good I love their dynamic so much ! !
> 
> I always forget what I want to tell ya'll in these :/
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support of this work ! Seeing your comments and kudos make me so happy :D


	8. The Ghost, The Blaze, The Duck, and The Time-Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Quackity come home :0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter Poggers ! !
> 
> TW: None that I'm aware of ! lmk if I missed anything :)
> 
> See you in the end notes !

The door opened letting in a gust of cold air and revealing the Mexican duck hybrid and a taller human in a bright sweatshirt. The two of them both wore wide smiles that somehow grew even more upon seeing Sapnap. The blaze in question greeted them with a bear hug, lifting the two of them so that their feet were a few inches above the floor.

“Sap!” Quackity squawked at being picked up. His wings puffed up a bit in surprise but he was still smiling.He instantly calmed when Sapnap planted a kiss on his cheek, Karl giggling at the exchange.

“What? I missed my fiancés!” He squeezed them tighter for a second before setting them down.

“We missed you too, Sappy!” Karl replied before giving the taller a quick kiss, his voice was sing-songy and Ghostbo liked the sound of it. Sapnap was like a giddy golden retriever excitedly helping his fiancés take off wool-lined boots and mittens with a dopey smile on his face. Quackity scoffed and rolled his eyes at the scene but the blush on his cheeks and the loving look in his eye was undeniable.

Ghostbo floated a ways away from the three, not wanting to interrupt their little reunion. As Karl shucked off his heavy winter coat he noticed the ghost.

"Hey, Ghostbo!"The boy waved hesitantly in response as Karl approached him. "Do you remember me or does _the_ Handsome Karl need an introduction?"

The ghost giggled, "no, I remember you very well actually!"

Karl was one of -if not the only person that the ghost felt they remembered completely. The man radiated positivity and could make friends with just about anyone. He and Sapnap were an obvious fit for one another because of this. His chemistry with Quackity was clear, the pair were nearly always laughing when they were together and thrived off of their mutual excitement for everything. And when it came to Quackity and Sapnap, they were both total flirts who loved to gang up on Karl and cause (relatively harmless) mischief around the server together. The fiancés worked so well together it felt odd to think about a time when Karl and Sapnap were without their third, not that the ghost could remember it particularly well.

“Oh Q! Do you think it’d be alright if Ghostbo borrowed your compass to Techno’s place? He wants to go see them but doesn’t know how to get there.”

Quackity’s feathers ruffled a bit upon noticing the ghost standing just outside their kitchen. “I don’t know about that, Sap.”

“Well, why not?” Sapnap looked nearly as downtrodden as the ghost in question. His rods sort of drooped downwards and orbited slower.

“I just- I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” Quackity sounded nervous and his body language was no different. His yellow wings unfolded slightly to make him look bigger and his eyes darted around the room. One of his hands absentmindedly came to the split in his lip and the scar tissue of where the cut had been.

Sapnap placed a warm and calloused hand on the duck hybrid’s shoulder. He spoke in a gentle tone reserved for his lovers when they were particularly upset. “What’s wrong, Q?” He glanced at Ghostbo before continuing in a somehow even softer, quieter voice, “we can talk in the other room if you want?” The duck gave a curt nod. Sapnap gave Karl a look to which he responded with his own, a conversation without a single word spoken and yet they both perfectly understood one another.

Ghostbo felt out of place, like an intruder invading the carefree intimacy of their home. They watched the two hybrids leave to discuss the matter as Karl pulled them into a new topic.

“Oh! Ghostbo, you have trouble with your memory, right?” Karl asked as he opened the oven, peering at the bread with curiosity.

“Mhm,” the ghost nodded, “yeah… it’s not very fun at all…”

“Tell me about it, dude!” He sounded exacerbated, “I’ve been struggling with remembering too,” this surprised Ghostbo.

“But I don’t remember you ever having memory problems before?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“That’s because I didn’t.” Karl groaned heavily, closing the oven door. “It’s a, uh, side effect of something more recent.” He paused for a moment, his back to the ghost, before turning around to face them. His chipper attitude returned, “It’s nothing to worry about though! I wanted to suggest something that might help you remember better!” Ghostbo perked up, his ears twitching. “I’m sure you already know about Ghostbur and Ranboo’s memory books, but I’ve been keeping a few myself and it’s been super helpful so maybe it’ll help you too! I have an extra book if you want it?”

“Yes, please!” Ghostbo nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that, thank you, Karl!” He smiled at the man. “That could really help me organize my thoughts and everything- I’m trying to remember as much as I can about Tubbo’s life but there are all these blank spaces in my memory…”

“I’m sure you’ll get there eventually, Bo!” Karl smiled brightly as he dug through a backpack. “Do you want me to help at all? I mean I haven’t been here for too long and I wasn’t super involved with anything, but I know some stuff!” He pulled out a newly bound leather book and a pencil before walking them over to the ghost.

Ghostbo took the book into cold, grey hands and opened the cover. They spotted a thin line at the center of the otherwise blank page and wrote their name in messy, looping handwriting.

"Can you help me make a timeline? I wanna try to narrow down what exactly I'm missing."

"Of course!" Karl smiled pulling out a chair at the dining room table and motioning for the ghost to sit beside him.

* * *

Sapnap and Quackity stood in a spare room of the house. They mostly used the space for storage and it was filled with chests. The duck was still looking anxious as he shifted his weight and avoided eye contact. Sapnap held his hand loosely and tried to give him some space.

"What's this all about, Alex?" Sapnap asked quietly, rubbing his thumb over Quackity's knuckles.

He spoke suddenly, "do you think he knows that I broke his horn?" His voice was much quieter than it usually was. "Or- Or that I was so involved in his death?" His fearful eyes met Sapnap's.

"I'm not sure, his memory is pretty scattered- he only really remembers things about me from before the first revolution..." He paused, and the two sat in silence for a moment. Sapnap looked sad as he continued in a hushed tone, "I heard that he doesn't remember exiling Tommy or anything at all about Pogtopia... I think he only has memories of when people were happy, you know? But he still knows about some of the bad stuff... he just doesn't understand why they happened because, to him, we've never been unhappy."

Quackity hummed, his brow furrowed and eyes fixated on a spot on the floor. "What does that mean for me then?"

"He probably knows, and if he doesn't he'll connect the dots soon enough -he's a smart kid." Sapnap answered.

"Oh..." Quackity looked terrified and remorseful.

"You shouldn't worry about it, Q, he forgave me for taking his first life and Techno for his second..." Sapnap cupped Quackity's head in his hands. "Right now, he's just trying to understand what he can't remember. If you talk to him, he'll listen." He took a deep breath before continuing. "He needs someone to help him understand everything that happened with his dad and leading up to his death, Alex, you're the only one who can do it and I know that you can." He tucked a strand of Quackity's hair back, revealing little yellow feathers growing on his ear and temple.

"What about Tommy?" Quackity asked, confused.

"I heard Tommy is refusing to talk to him at all, "they shared a sad look, "he's still mad about everything, too stubborn to even talk to his best friend's ghost..."

"That's... that's fucked..." Quackity paused for a moment before pulling Sapnap into a hug, "I'm gonna help him remember, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this one, mostly the ending but I think I got the dynamic well in the first part so there's that at least lol
> 
> No spoilers ahead ab today's lore stream (1st March, 2021) but I am talking about it just so yk: SO THAT TOMMY LORE STREAM FROM EARLIER TODAY HUH ? ? ? HEY ? HEY DSMP WRITERS ? NOT SURE IF ITS A GOOD NARRATIVE MOVE BUT I'M HOPING YOU'LL PROVE ME WRONG <3 Tubbo's reaction was so fucking funny tho lol They should've let him know beforehand that they were doing lore so that he wouldn't've hit us with the "Oh... well anyways! :)" but whatever I'm hyped for whenever smp!Tubbo finds out tho bc ya'll already know how much I love me some good Tubbo angst ! ! ! 
> 
> Anyway, ya'll are great :) ALSO ! Feel free to suggest characters that you'd like to see some Ghostbo interactions with ! Obvi there's gonna be some more Big Q and I have a plot planned out but I wanna get some more people up in here ! I'm probably gonna include Foolish and Dream XD in some later chapters so get hyped ! :D


	9. Reminiscences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbo debates backing out and not visiting Techno at all ! uh oh !
> 
> Mostly just Ghostbo thinkin about Techno during their childhood and stuff :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my little pogchamps uwu ! ! !
> 
> TW: self-doubt and mentions of fighting / death (nothing graphic or anything tho !)
> 
> This chapter wasn't planned, but I thought it'd be better to just split it off and give ya'll a chap instead of making the next one super long. This was supposed to be some good Ghostbo with sleepy bois (minus Tommy oops) and Ranboo content, but that'll be in next chapter instead dw :)
> 
> See you in the end notes !

Ghostbo promptly set out on his journey to Technoblade and Philza’s area. Before leaving they thanked Quackity profusely for the compass and agreed to have a chat with the duck once they returned from the tundra. They trekked through dense forests and had to take a small rowboat across a large body of water, leaving them tired from being corporeal for so long. But they continued onwards through the inky blackness of the night with only the soft purple glow of the compass to guide them. In total it took the ghost a few hours to reach the vast, icy tundra and see the warm light of the rustic building the Blood God and Angel of Death both called their home. 

He was feeling… uneasy about seeing Technoblade. On one hand, Ghostbo knew that underneath several layers of sarcasm and intimidating battle prowess, the warrior was just a huge softie when it came to their family and friends. But he also knew that Techno was partially responsible for two of his deaths and the pink burn scars covering his gray body. Despite overwhelming evidence of the contrary, Ghostbo couldn’t imagine the boar ever laying a hand on them with malicious intent. 

Techno was their sibling in everything but blood, more so than Wilbur or Tommy had been. Tommy was his best friend and Wilbur was never horrible to him either, but Techno was his sibling. 

At first glance, the ram and piglin hybrids were an unlikely pair. The younger being a pacifist that enjoyed redstone and had a bubbly personality while the older was monotone, elegant, and had earned their title of The Blood God as only a teenager. But they both enjoyed the quiet and actually had remarkably similar hobbies. 

Initially, they had begun to spend more time together when the youngest boys were too small to be left alone and Phil was busy. Tommy was fascinated by music and would beg to accompany Wilbur in town while the older played guitar and sang for tips. While Tubbo was also interested in music and would later learn how to play several instruments, it was agreed upon by the twins that it would only be fair to have each of them watch one kid. So, Techno was often in charge of looking after the young ram hybrid. 

Tubbo had fond memories of Techno teaching him how to farm and sew. _“You have to space out the potatoes so they have room to grow.”_ Techno always wore a tan woven hat with a wide brim and pretty red ribbon tied around it when they were out in the fields and kept their long, pink hair tied up in a tight bun. Tubbo wore a matching hat to Techno’s, only his had a green bow on it instead of red and the brim of it looked almost comically oversized in comparison to the small boy. He remembered the smell of fresh produce and the feeling of soft dirt spilling through his fingers. If the boy asked, Techno would treat him to stories of Greek myths and ancient civilizations while dug up potatoes and carrots.

 _“Remember to pull the thread taught, but not too tight_.” Techno helped him to make his first skirt out of a pretty baby blue fabric with a floral pattern on it. The waistband was elastic and cinched, perfectly, above their hips. The fabric draped nicely, sitting just above his knees, and flared out when he spun around. Tubbo loved the garment and wore it frequently until he eventually grew out of it. Techno scoffed when Phil told them that they had gone soft, but the piglin still wore a scrap of the excess blue fabric in a bow at the end of their braid. 

When the boy was older, Techno even gave him lessons in sword fighting. Techno themself fought with calculated grace. They danced around their opponents and delivered quick but devastating blows. The crisp white shirts and expansive, regal attire they wore taunted their foes as they failed to get a hit on the aloof piglin. While Techno definitely had the prowess to win their battles, more often than not, they found that snide comments and an air of boredom never hurt their chances of success. 

Tubbo took to their methods like a fish to water. While he was, quite frankly, horrible at keeping a straight face, he excelled at acrobatics and remaining patient. “ _Always keep your stance wide, maintain your balance as you move. Keep your distance, and remain just barely out of their reach, let them think they have a chance._ ” Tubbo was actually quite the gymnasts, and Techno found themself being quite impressed by the boy’s flexibility and strength on more than one occasion. He didn’t look it, but the ram was, actually, stronger than Tommy and wasn’t far off from matching Wilbur. 

On days with bad weather, Techno helped them with their reading and, as they got older, they taught them how to dress wounds and brew potions. Skills he utilized heavily throughout his time on the Dream SMP. 

But things were a lot different nowadays. Tubbo was dead and two of his deaths were partially by Techno’s hands. Tubbo was a President, Techno is an anarchist. Their brothers were either dead or giving Ghostbo the cold shoulder. Ghostbo missed Techno greatly, but they were terrified of seeing them.

_What if they throw me out like Tommy did?_

He stood on Techno’s porch, hand hovering inches away from the door trying to will himself to knock. The cold was bitter, and the wind cut right through them. Ghostbo stood there for a while debating if they should even bother knocking at all if they’d be better off turning back and returning home. He could hear Ghostbur playing the guitar and singing softly while Phil moved about in the kitchen with pots and pans, and Techno occasionally turned a page of their book. The ghost desperately wanted to be apart of that cozy, homey atmosphere. But instead, they stood out in the cold, on the precipice of the warmth of the home.

Their fluffy ears barely registered the sound of snow crunching beneath boots approaching them. Turning, they saw the culprit: Ranboo. The taller wore a thick, light blue coat that matched Phil and Techno’s, and they carried a medium-sized box in their hands. Both of their ears perked up upon recognizing one another. Ranboo’s tail swished back and forth as an excited dog's would.

“Hey, Ghostbo!” Ranboo spoke when they got closer and let out a chirp. 

“Hi, Boo,” Ghostbo responded. 

“Why are you standing out here in the cold?” The enderman sounded worried, their ears drooping downwards.

“I um…” the ghost looked away and fiddled with their sweater sleeves. They whispered, “I came to see Techno and Phil… but what if Tech doesn’t want to see me? I miss them… but I don’t wanna lose any more of my family…” 

Ranboo understood that when Ghostbo said “family” they meant that they didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Tommy. Of course, Ranboo didn’t exactly have any siblings or what would be considered a family by Overworld standards, but they knew that feeling of loss like the back of their hand. However, they also recognized that while Technoblade had wildly different beliefs and was partially responsible for Tubbo’s death, the piglin still cared for the boy in some capacity. 

"I'm sure they won't throw you out, Bo." Their voice was calm and reassured the ram hybrid. "Techno cares about you, it's just... complicated..." They shifted the box they held in their hands. "Plus, if things do go wrong- which they won't- I'll be there with you!" They offered the ghost a sad smile, which they returned hesitantly.

"Okay... I trust you, Ranboo." They looked up at the enderman with doe eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how much I LOVE Techno ? Bc wow,,, as a wlnb he is actually pretty funny B) and the aesthetic ? ? ? UNMATCHED ! ! ! I also really love agender/enby Techno, it just makes my heart happy so I decided to make that a part of this au :)
> 
> Dude I've been writing an english essay all day today. All I know is write about modern tragedy and cite sources only vaguely related to my thesis. Lowkey thinking about actually writing something about the Dream smp and tragic form tho ? /srs Like Tommy is a big time tragic hero let me tell yOU ! ! Mans just can't stop trying to achieve what he believes is rightfully his only to get beat tf up over it ! ! ! Like if he just never got his disks back ? God it would work so well but whatever, he can succeed or whatever, idc /lh
> 
> ALSO feel free to go wild in my comments about the most recent development with Tommy if you want ! I don't really have any friends actually into the smp and it's nice to talk to others about it :D
> 
> Anyway ! Stay hydrated and have a good day / night ily !<3

**Author's Note:**

> Comment any ideas / thoughts on this au please ! I love reading them :)
> 
> No spoilers or anything but have ya'll SEEN the end of Ranboo's last stream bc o.o I'm both intrigued and incredibly worried about that funky ender boy
> 
> Next chapter will happen eventually? Probably within the next week or two but will definitely be shorter bc I cannot do 4000+ word chapters of this thing or I will keel over and die lmao


End file.
